A new beginning
by elrohirnelladanlover
Summary: Harry goes home for the summer after 6th year to find his uncle angry. After 4 weeks of torture, Harry comes into his magical inheritance...and find himself and the world about him changed completely...LOTRxHP crossover
1. The fun begins!

Disclaimer: I am not JKROWLING OR J.R.R.TOLKIEN and do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings to my eternal displeasure.

The Fun Begins

Harry sighed as he trudged up the path towards the dreaded 4 Privet Drive. 'It should have a sign on the doorstep', Harry thought idly, _'LEAVE ALL HOPE AND HAPPINESS HERE!_' or _'WELCOME TO THE 10__TH__ CIRCLE OF HELL'_. Both would describe this hellish place aptly. But at least it was his last summer here, and he only had to stay for four weeks. Four agonizingly long weeks until he turned seventeen.

"Get in boy." Uncle Vernon snarled, spittle flying from his large beefy mouth. "I've got a bone to pick with you."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his uncle, but obediently went into the house of horrors. "What's the problem uncle?" Harry asked falsely politely, once he was inside the bland living room.

His uncle whirled on him, grabbing his collar viciously, throwing him against the wall so quickly and hard Harry's teeth rattled and his head connected with the hard stone, leaving him seeing stars for a moment.

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE THAT INSOLENT TONE WITH ME BOY!" His uncle roared, spit flying into Harry's face that smelt faintly of alcohol, as his ugly face turned a puce that matched his plum coloured shirt. "YOU SEE, THIS IS THE EXACT REASON WHY I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO TO THAT SCHOOL! But I let you go, without a word of complaint."

Despite the circumstances, Harry had to smirk at that, fortunately, his uncle didn't see, and continued his rant.

"And now, you feel that you can invite your...your... your KIND! Into _my_home. Do you know what's happened since that...that man came here? Do you? I lost my job! It's all your fault! And now you dare to be insolent with me after you made me lose my job? I'm going to teach you a lesson boy. A lesson you won't forget. I'm going to beat it out of you, like I should have done a long time ago. Better late than never I say." Vernon hissed as he unbuckled his belt.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o

Harry struggled to sit up on the mattress he was laying on in the cupboard under the stairs, but it was hard because of the pain lacing through his body. He knew left arm was broken, he had heard that snap along with his fingers and toes and was pretty sure at least three or four of his ribs were broken of fractured, judging how hard it was to breathe, amongst all the other injuries he had sustained.

The recent development in the house of horrors was one that he did not like at all.

His uncle seemed determined to beat the magic out of him and teach him a lesson as he had once vowed to do. Sure, he was used to the occasional slap around the head, or a frying pan whacking him somewhere on his anatomy, but this, this was torture, and it was beginning to come clear to him that the amount of pain that could be inflicted was only limited by the human imagination.

Somewhere in the process of his uncle getting a pair of pliers and taking it to his little fingernail to rip it out, he had become peacefully unconscious. These four weeks were going to be the longest four weeks of his entire life.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-O-o-O-o

Thankfully, those four weeks did pass...eventually. A lot could happen in four weeks. In four weeks Harry Potter had become unrecognizable to look at. He was stones lighter than when he left school for the summer. His body was a spectrum of yellow, green, purple, blue and black. His cheeks were hollow and gaunt. His eyes were the scariest thing though. The vibrant green had become a dull, lifeless green. They looked sunken and haunted – more so than they ever had been, even after Sirius and Dumbledore had died. They looked like the enormous wounds of a child who had seen far too much, endured too much, and had finally given up.

Only, Harry hadn't given up, not quite, at least he hadn't given up in his subconscious. He was too stubborn to let some huge lump of lard steal his life, steal his happiness. In his conscious though, Harry was wishing he was dead, he had given up counting down the days till he could leave this place some time in the first week of torture, some time after his uncle had scraped sandpaper down his bloody back, removing all the skin. Some time after his magic had stopped healing him because his conscious had given up.

The days and nights were one constant blur, Harry had been confined in the Cupboard under the Stairs blindfolded until he could no longer decipher one from the other, and Harry no longer cared what day it was, what did it matter? He was only getting one step closer to death with each passing moment.

Unbeknown to Harry time was ticking till he would leave this place, a countdown until his birthday, only ten seconds left.

Little things began changing around him, a silver glowing began expanding beneath his feet, with only seconds to go, until at midnight exactly, the rippling silver grew until it was surrounding him completely, though he did not notice it and jerked him back so he woke from the agony.


	2. Beginning Anew

Disclaimer: I'm still not any legendary author sadly!

Beginning Anew

A cool breeze blew through the colourful autumnal trees overhead with a swishing sound, coercing some of the golden leaves to flutter to the ground, spiralling and swirling onto a dirt path covering it in a spongy golden red carpet that Harry was curled upon after being dropped from the silver liquid.

'What the?' Was the only thought Harry had on his mind at that moment, 'where was he?'

Suddenly, a great pain began spreading through Harry, starting with his hair, piercing through his head, and slicing through the rest of his body. He felt as though his bones were being reshaped and snapping into positions they shouldn't be in, growing and shortening in various different areas. He screamed piercingly, thrashing on the ground wildly and gnawing on his bottom lip until it was a long line of blood dribbling down his chin.

The pain gradually subsided to a dull ache and Harry lay on the ground panting, sweat pouring off him in tiny rivers, mingling with the blood from the open wounds he had from his last meeting with his uncle, making them burn fiercely. He did not feel good at all. Scrap that, he felt **_terrible._**

Slowly, he pushed himself up onto all fours and glanced about himself, warily looking for his uncle. Nothing. Nobody was there. He was completely alone. Completely alone in the middle of a forest no less!

"So now I'm dead?" Harry asked the sky hopefully, which of course gave no answer; death would be a pleasant escape from the pain wracking through his slight frame, but then, if he was dead, shouldn't the pain have stopped? Unless he was in hell of course... Sighing in defeat, as thinking only added to the growing headache he had, Harry glanced down at himself. He had gained a great deal of weight and muscle last year at Hogwarts but he was back to incredibly skinny – no doubt from the weeks of starvation his beloved 'uncle' had subjected him to.

He was wearing different clothes to what he had been wearing when he was locked under the stairs. Where had they come from? They were quite nice actually, black, long and swishy. "Great! So let me get it right. I'm in the middle of a forest that is probably nowhere near anything, injured, I'm about to fall unconscious, and be raped, robbed or Merlin knows what, and I've nothing on me to help! Thanks, just thanks."

This was all Uncle Vernon's fault.

Harry dragged himself shakily into standing position and froze. He wasn't supposed to be so... small...what was going on? He cast another glare towards the sky, "What if I promise never to be disrespectful again?" He asked.

The sky gave an unhappy growl, which he took for a 'no', but then, just to top everything off it started raining. Magic had a wonderful sense of humour of course.

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed!" Harry grumbled through gritted teeth, wincing as pain ribboned through his body, starting to walk shakily in any direction his new very short legs could take him, pulling up the hood of the black cloak he was wearing, searching warily for anything that could hurt him, be that Death Eaters, Voldemort, his own 'family', or a rabid animal.

Harry walked for all of ten seconds unsteadily as a new born colt, before he keeled over from exhaustion and pain, and found himself staring straight into a puddle of rain water, and froze completely again, every wasted muscle in his body frozen as solid as ice.

He looked like a bloody five year old! His cheeks were still gaunt from the torture and starvation, but they were chubbier, rounder and smoother with youth and sort of...cute!

If the emerald eyes in the puddle hadn't widened in shocked horror at the same second as his did, Harry would have believed he was looking at a stranger, he that different.

His hair was long, down past his waist, silky and smooth - not looking at all like an electrified squirrel had been placed on his head as it usually did. He grabbed a handful of the soft hair and pulled, it was real all right, but the movement of his hair had unveiled a new change. Harry reeled and fell backwards grabbing his ears. Points! His ears had points!

That was when realisation hit Harry. He was no longer human! He was an flipping elf! What type of elf, he didn't know, certainly not a house-elf, but certainly an elf. He toppled back from the puddle, scrambling away from it as quickly as he could, as if not looking at himself meant that it was not real, and he could pretend that his life was still normal.

His frantic movements caused his cloak to pull over his face, casting into complete shadow again so nothing and nobody could see it. Maybe he could believe it was an invisibility cloak if he closed his eyes and wished really hard that this was a fever induced hallucination, or a childish nightmare.

Before Harry could dwell any further on his situation, two swords were pressed against his small neck. A stream of profanities fluttered through Harry's mind in quick succession.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW, YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE MENTAL ANGUISH IT IS CAUSING ME TO PUT THIS STORY UP! (I never ever let anyone read my writing) Please let me know if this is complete crap, and I should scrap it.


	3. Sticky Situations

Disclaimer: I am not J.K.Rowling, or J.R.R Tolkien, nor will I ever be, no matter how hard I wish...sadly

Sticky Situations

Elrohir sighed wearily as he sheathed his sword after the last batch of orcs and goblins had been dispatched. The number of orcs was increasing rapidly and it seemed that for every orc he and Elladan slayed, two replaced it. Every nest that they torched, three more came. Worse still, the orcs appeared to have reformed under one leader, their attacks appeared to be planned and were becoming increasingly cunning.

They had tracked a party of orcs from Trollshaws all the way into The Old Forest where they had finally slaughtered the scum that had so recently tortured their mother. Now, they were warily sweeping through The Old Forest, searching for any orcs they may have missed - it was well known that The Old Forest disliked all the peoples of Middle-earth.

It was beginning to rain and the sun would be setting soon anyway, so he and Elladan found a clearing and swiftly set about creating a make-shift camp. Half-way through gathering firewood, Elrohir sensed that his brother had frozen and glanced over at him.

Elladan raised a hand to beckon him closer and pointed between the trees. Peering through them Elrohir saw nothing extraordinary, but his sharp ears picked up on some movement and he trained his eyes to it.

There, lying on the floor was something that his first cursory glance of the clearing had missed. It wasn't invisible, but its form was indistinguishable and his eyes seemed to slide over it when he wasn't actively focusing on it. What new magic was this?

Slowly and silently he drew his sword and knew instinctively that his brother was doing the same. Stealthily, they crept forward, stepping carefully in case the trees chose to turn against them and alert the thing of their presence.

As they neared the being, its outlines began to get clearer and they could see where its neck was. They could slay it immediately, but they first needed to know exactly what it was. If it was an orc, how they could they overcome the new devilry so it could not be used as an advantage against them?

In complete synchronization they pressed their blades against against its neck and bent down, feeling the thing beneath them freeze – it had some intelligence then.

"What are you?" Elladan demanded harshly in the common tongue. The thing did not answer – clearly it had little intelligence.

"Speak!" Elrohir commanded curtly. There was still no reply, but the thing began shifting beneath them. He pressed his sword harder into the neck beneath him.

"Not Death Eaters, not now! Please not now!" The thing beneath them moaned mournfully in Sindarin.

O-o-O-o-O

Harry wasn't aware that he had spoken aloud until the two blades against his neck relaxed marginally.

"What are you?" A voice from the left of his head asked. It was distinctly unnerving to have two identical voices speaking from two different places when he couldn't see them, but at least now they were speaking in English so he actually _understood _them.

He analysed the question they had asked him. _What_ was he? A boy? A human? An elf? A wizard? Was he still a wizard?

While he was still formulating an answer that might help to diffuse the tension of the situation, his attackers reached out and ripped his hood off.

The swords against his neck retreated and the two attackers jumped away from him as though they had been electrocuted. What the...? What _was_ going on?

"An elfling?" he heard one whisper as he reached up to wipe the line of blood from his neck.

"How can this be?" the other replied wonderingly.

Harry shifted on the ground and turned painfully into a sitting position so he could look at the two of them.

They had to be twins. They both had long black hair, plaited identically on the sides of their heads and down their back, so it revealing pointed ears just like his – elves then. Their clothes were in an identical style but the colours were different - the one on the left had blue, the other had green. Both were splattered liberally with black blood – they were killers then.

O-o-O-o-O

Elladan was confused. Here, before them, was an elfling, but how? There hadn't been an elfling born in Middle-earth for nigh on five centuries.

A birth of an elfling was very important to the elves, who treasured their young more than anything else. An elfling's birth should be met with enough celebrations to last for months through all the elven realms. Why had this one not been known to them?

"Are you hurt little one?" Elrohir spoke softly to the spooked elfling in Sindarin. And he should well be spooked! Had they not just had two swords against his neck?

A horrible realisation settled over Elladan that made him feel sick to the stomach. Had they really thought about simply dispatching this child before even checking what it was? Had their blood-lust grown so much that they were willing to risk an innocent life by negligence? For the while at least, he and his twin seemed to slip out of their quest to kill all orcs, and their anger washing off them like a snake shedding its skin.

He assessed the elfling with a healer's eye, one that he hadn't used since his mother had sailed for Valinor, he did _not_ like what he saw. A pang of horrendous, overwhelming guilt hit him when he saw that their swords had spilled blood from the elfling's pale, small neck. Elves were _supposed_ to be wise, compassionate beings, not ones that killed and hurt others without thinking, remorse or grief.

The elfling didn't answer Elrohir's gentle question. His eyebrows knitted together in pain on his tiny face as he scrambled awkwardly to get away from them. Elladan felt his breath being squeezed from him at the elfling's reaction to them. No elfling was supposed to fear the Eldar, no elfling ever had feared them. What _had_ they done?

Elrohir had dropped his sword and was creeping closer to the elfling, his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace.

O-o-O-o-O

Harry watched warily as the elf came closer to him. He was not fooled by pretense of peace, but there was nothing he could do to stop the elf's approach. He couldn't run - the mere thought of running sent a wave of pain crashing through his legs. He couldn't attack, he was far too weak - they were bigger and stronger than he was, and there were two of them. He couldn't use magic because he had no wand and accidental magic had been no help to him while he was with his uncle. There was nothing he could do except try to keep his tentative grasp of consciousness stable.

Hopefully they would be swift and relatively painless, that was all he could ask for. The elf stopped coming any closer when he got to about two feet away.

"Where is your family child?" He asked softly. "What is your name?"

Harry remained silent.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir watched the elfling tense as he approached and paused his progress. It was clear the elfling was injured and he didn't want him to come any closer, so he stopped. Scaring the little one more would not help the situation.

"Little one, we didn't mean to hurt or scare you. I'm Elrohir, and the hideous beast over there, is my brother Elladan."

Elrohir saw the child's unique green eyes dart over to his twin momentarily and thought he may have seen a flash of humour dart through his eyes.

"Please, I don't want to you hurt you," Elrohir said, edging ever closer. "Are you lost?"

Receiving no answer, Elrohir continued speaking softly to the elfling, "Would you like to come with us? We are just about to have supper. We're just in the next clearing."

He saw the elfling perk up at that, and Elrohir and his brother nearly burst out laughing, despite the graveness of the situation. The way to any elfling's heart was inevitably through his stomach.

O-o-O-o-O

Harry considered the situation carefully. He could run, get even more lost in this forest and die when he passed out from pain, or he could go with these elves and remain on his guard and hopefully, if they did attack, it would be when he had regained some strength and could fight back. If he was eating with them, and staying with them for a little while, it didn't mean that he had to _like_ them or anything, he didn't need to trust them...know thy enemy after all.

Please review, I love them!

I have been asked whether I will add a relationship into this story, and I'm not fussed, I'll do whatever my general audience wants...so if you do review could you say whether you want a pairing in this or not...and if you do want a pairing, could you say who you would like paired with who? Thanks a lot!


	4. Speculation and Fear

Disclaimer: You recognise it, it ain't mine!

Speculation and Fear

Elladan watched the elfling sleep on his watch that night. The child had been incredibly wary of them. He had carefully examined every piece of food before eating it quickly, as though they would take it off him, watching them all the while for any sudden movements. Then he had fought off exhaustion for as long as he could, before he fell into dreams as quick as a candle being snuffed, unable to fight it any longer. Worst of all, he had not let them near them and recoiled at any advances. Elladan could see from his movements that he was hurt, but the elfling's cloak hid the extent of the injuries and the elfling wasn't letting on to anything that might be perceived as a weakness. Elladan could not remember he or Elrohir ever being so stubborn...

It was shocking how little the elfling trusted them, did he not know that they would _never _intentionally harm him?

Elladan sighed in frustration, tossing another branch into the the fire and watched it curl, shrivel, burn then crumble to ash. He placed his head in his hands, tugging at his hair in despair. He wanted nothing more than to go to the elfling and heal him, help him, avenge him, but the elfling wouldn't have let him, and it would only erase any amount of trust they had already established with the little one.

A hand fell heavily on his shoulder, and he jumped; he had not even sensed his twin's approach he was so wrapped up in his thoughts.

"You are lucky I am not an Orc." Elrohir said to him quietly, as he plonked down onto the log beside him.

Elladan snorted derisively, "I would have heard an Orc."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow, a trick that he had learned from their father that Elladan had yet to master, much to his annoyance.

"I feel your frustration and guilt." Elrohir said softly, prompting him to speak.

"How could I not feel guilty? We attacked an elfling El! An elfling! We drew innocent blood. And now he does not trust us and I cannot blame him. If I were an elfling and someone did that to me, I would not trust them either! Father is going to be so disappointed in us when he hears what we have done! Never before has an elf attacked an elfling."

Elrohir sat silently beside him, and Elladan could sense that his brother could not find the words to ease his mind.

Finally, Elrohir spoke. "What do you think 'Death Eaters' are?"

"What?" Elladan asked confusedly, taking his head out of his hands to glance at his brother.

"Death Eaters El!" Elrohir exclaimed impatiently, "I think they're the things that hurt him."

Elladan paused for a moment, recalling the elfling's moan of despair when they had him beneath their swords, 'Not Death Eaters, not now! Please not now!'

What _were_ Death Eaters? "I don't know. Maybe he means Orcs? They eat all kinds of dead things. Perhaps he has made that name up."

Elrohir stroked his chin in a thoughtful gesture, glancing over at the sleeping elfling. "Do you think he was taken by Orcs?"

"I hope not." Elladan said shortly, his tone not inviting any further conversation. This topic was touching far too closely to his own mental wounds. The air was suddenly becoming very close and his chest felt like it was being wrapped in metal bands. He stood quickly and walked away into the forest to scan the area for clues of where the elfling may have come from and if there was anyone else around.

He was aware of Elrohir's eyes burning into his back as he cowardly retreated, but his brother did not follow. Elrohir knew that he needed some time alone.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir watched sadly as his brother pulled away from him. He knew that his brother needed to escape from the memories clouding his mind, but that didn't make it any easier to bear his absence.

He looked over at the child and wondered what horrors this young elf had already seen to cause such distrust and instinctive wariness. Elrohir thought about the elfling's parents with a pang, they would be worried sick about him. Why had all the elven realms not been warned to watch for him?

Elrohir stood and walked over to the child, peering into his face. He was a comely child, and looked decidedly innocent with his head lolled to the side his mouth slightly agape. The power of sleep had taken the expression of pain from his facial features that had been marring his face from the moment they saw him. Pain did not suit this elfling, Elrohir decided firmly.

The elfling's eyes were fascinating, even clouded with sleep, he had the greenest eyes Elrohir had ever seen. They were such a vivid emerald colour; they made the sun-dappled grass in Imladris appear dull and washed out in comparison.

The elfling began squirming as though he was aware of Elrohir's scrutiny and was uncomfortable with it. Elrohir was hit with a sudden wave of overwhelming compassion for this child and barely restrained from reaching out to soothe him.

The elfling gasped suddenly as he jarred a broken rib and froze completely, his eyes clearing all of a sudden.

O-o-O-o-O

Harry found he couldn't breathe. Something was stopping him from drawing breath. He snapped into consciousness realising something was stabbing into his chest. 

Harry involuntarily coughed and spluttered in a panic to gasp for fresh air. His hands flew to his throat as his eyes snapped into focus. 

"It's alright," a melodic voice told Harry. Harry blinked gazing about in the haziness of pain. Someone was threading their fingers through his hair, distracting him from the pain, but a moment later he forgot about it entirely as another something stabbed into his lungs. "You will be alright."

Harry took a shuddering breath, which felt like he was breathing in fire, and choked again. He rolled over away from the gentle fingers onto his side, spluttering. Tears were rolling in streams down his cheek and he panicked, trying desperately to draw breath. A cruel iron fist was curling around his chest and squeezing.

Strong hands gently pulled him into a sitting position and Harry felt his breathing ease slightly. "Relax." He heard a voice murmur, "Steady now. Breathe slowly and deeply, you are alright, just relax. Calm down."

Harry obeyed the voice without a thought, too panicked to concentrate. Slowly his airways opened and the pain eased. His eyes began sliding shut, even as he berated himself for falling asleep when he was supposed to be on his guard.

"You'll be okay," a voice promised as once more Harry found himself slipping into sweet oblivion, wrenching himself out of the arms holding him. 

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief as the elfling returned to sleep. That had been scary - the helplessness he had felt. He wished his father was here, he would know what to do.

Elrohir glanced up sharply as he heard something crashing through the under-bush and saw Elladan charging towards the camp.

"What happened?" Elladan gasped.

"I don't know." Elrohir answered a touch of hysteria lacing into his voice as the reality set in. "He was squirming, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. I think he is well now though."

"Good, that is good." Elladan said in one breath, sinking down as his legs would no longer hold him weight, "I thought you were being attacked!"

O-o-O-o-O

Tendrils of pink were climbing above the forest, and a little hesitating light came down through the trees. Thankfully, dawn had come without any further incidents during the night.

Harry woke and, with a motion as slow as centuries, his eyes opened. He heard the sounds of bustling around him.

The twins were already awake and preparing breakfast.

"Good morning little one." One said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Harry answered on reflex. Thinking about the question though, he wasn't fine, his skull felt like someone had taken a hammer and chisel to it, his lungs felt like they were on fire and his ribs ached something dreadful, not to mention the stinging of his back, and the stabbing pain in his left arm. It felt as if someone had made a botched attempt to murder him. Would that they had succeeded.

Harry rubbed his eyes drowsily and worked himself into a sitting position, wincing the whole way up. He ached in places he hadn't known existed. What _had_ he been _doing_ last night? It struck him as particularly unfair that he should be so sore without having done anything physical enough to merit the pain.

The twins handed him some food that he scrutinized with the same suspision as he had the night before – which was to say: a lot.

"We are going back to Rivendell," One of the twins began, "To all the other elves. Will you accompany us?"

Harry nodded, there was nothing else he could do. He didn't know his way around this place at all, and as he had established the previous night, his best chance of survival was to stay with these elves.

"Do you have any family who will be looking for you?" The other twin asked, Harry really needed to learn their names, it was annoying not knowing which one was speaking.

Shaking out of his musings, Harry shook his head negatively as he remembered the question. Well, Uncle Vernon might be looking for him so he could vent his frustration...

"What happened to them?" The other asked. Harry decided he was Elladan.

"They were killed." He answered shortly, his eyes fixed on a leaf lying on the ground.

"I'm sorry." Elrohir said. "Our mother has left these shores too."

Harry's eyebrows drew together, not comprehending what Elrohir had said.

"She sailed for Valinor," Elrohir clarified, though this did nothing to allleviate Harry's confusion.

"Won't you get to see her again?" He asked in complete bewilderment.

"Eventually." Elrohir answered, nodding. "Yes."

Harry couldn't see how that was similar to his situation, but he let it pass.

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir watched amused as the elfling's fantastically green eyes widened slightly in trepidation as he saw his and Elladan's great warhorses.

They had trudged through the forest that day, he and Elladan could tell the elfling was hurting greatly but there was nothing they could do for him now as he would not allow them near him. Also, they only had basic supplies. Though, if Elrohir was honest with himself, he would realise that the only reason he didn't make a great effort to heal him was because he was afraid. Afraid of what he might see beneath the elfling's cloak. Afraid that he would be consumed by anger and do something rash.

As it was, they had slowed their pace and called regular breaks in a vain attempt to keep the elfling well rested. They talked to him constantly, trying to keep him conscious and aware, to get him to open up to them, and trust them, so when they _did_ have the supplies they would be able to approach him. They needed to keep going, to Rivendell before the little one was overcome by a fever or worse.

"These are our steeds home." Elrohir announced. "Have you ever ridden a horse, little one?"

The elfling shot around like an arrow and stared Elrohir down for a moment. "I've ridden a donkey," He replied meekly.

Elrohir chuckled and patted the horse's neck. "Don't let Assassin hear you compare him to an ass."

"Or what?" Harry asked, eyeing the horse with dislike.

"He'll assassinate you." Elrohir tilted his head to the side. "Now come here so I can lift you up."

Harry eyed the giant horse and then Elrohir, wrinkling his nose in complete distrust.

"I won't let you fall," Elrohir said kindly, not moving until Harry let him. "Nor will Assassin."

Harry swallowed with difficulty and nodded incredibly reluctantly. The next moment Harry was heaved into the air and set onto Assassin's back. He sucked air violently into his lungs and held his breath painfully. Clamping his eyes shut, Harry waited for what seemed like the inevitable movement.

Harry's eyes remained closed even when he felt Elrohir settle himself lightly behind him, when a pair of arms snaked their way around his waist he tensed further.

"I won't let you fall." Elrohir's whispered reasuringly. "Relax and trust me…"

Harry chuckled nervously. "I am relaxed." But his knuckles were already chalk white from holding on for dear life. And they hadn't started moving yet!

**Author's notes- hehe I like that, I'm now an **_**author! Oooh!**_

**Anyway, please please please review! I did try to write back personally to all the reviews, but I got distracted and forgot who I had written to and who I hadn't so thanks to y'all! I'll try again to respond this time )**


	5. A Determined Fighter

**Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it ain't mine!**

A Determined Fighter

Harry looked down at Elrohir's open arms from his position on Assassin's back. Elrohir called to him and so Harry cautiously let himself slip. He was caught deftly in Elrohir's arms and set firmly onto his feet.

Harry moaned slightly his knees feeling strangely odd supporting his own weight. It was like the joints had been forced backwards and turned to jelly. And his backside… well…

They had been travelling most of the day and Elladan had warned Harry he would be sore and stiff by the time they were ready for a rest. What was new?

"We shall take an afternoon rest from riding and continue in the morning. We are nearing Anduin, and the tide will be too high for us to cross until the morning."

Harry shrugged and stepped away from the demonic horse he had been riding for hours. It was only about half past three in the afternoon but if he didn't have to mount Assassin until morning… yes he was happy with that arrangement.

Harry scowled as he tried to walk on shaky legs. He was _not_ a happy camper. He did not enjoy riding a_t all_. In fact, he _detested_ it. Did muggles really do it for fun? Surely not. What was fun about being jostled around on the back of an evil animal? It didn't help any that he was injured and every movement that the horse made was causing him agony, and with Elrohir rubbing against his back it almost made him wish for a soothing Cruciatus.

But, alas, those small pleasures were denied him.

Elladan sat down, throwing his pack onto the ground, and stretched out his long legs. Elrohir had gone to scout the area for any signs of trouble and left the two of them alone together. Harry, gritting his teeth against the pain and frustration, limped over to Elladan. His legs were heavy and aching for sleep as he cautiously sat down with him.

Elladan eyed him with empathy, but made no move to speak with him.

O-o-O-o-O

Elladan had switched tactics. He thought that perhaps if he and Elrohir stopped _pushing _the elfling to talk, he would...eventually.

So far though, the elfling seemed perfectly content with the silence that had fallen over them. Being immortal, time did not concern the elves but they wanted _answers_. Where elflings were concerned, time was important, they did not stay elflings for very long after all.

Elladan smiled as Elrohir came back to the camp they had set up. "There is no sign of anything around. A small rivulet is not far away if you would like to wash." Elrohir announced. "I'll show you."

Elladan nodded and noticed that the elfling's attention had also been caught. They were led to a small stream that flowed, fresh and cold, from Anduin. Behind high bushes of gorse and bramble, a small bank of smooth grass shelved up from the pool, almost as if it had been made for bathing.

"I will keep watch." Elrohir announced, wandering away. "I will be within a call if you need me."

Elladan nodded and looked to the elfling who was looking edgy and awkward. "I will go with Elrohir, shout if you need either of us. We will hear you."

The elfling visibly sagged with relief, and Elladan smiled, he had done the right thing.

"We must think of plans." Elrohir said to Elladan in Westron, as he approached, seemingly expecting him. "We have a passenger and no extra food or supplies. But that is not what I am most concerned about. He is injured, how seriously we do not know. He needs medical attention from Ada." Elrohir turned to him. "We could get back to Rivendell and risk his health in the hurry, or we could take as long as we wish, and allow him to rest as much as he needs."

"I opt that we get back to Imladris as quickly as possible, without risking his health. Through the pass, we will have no choice but to hurry. Orcs are waiting there, and they are growing stronger. We cannot fight a horde of them and protect an injured elfling!" Elladan said passionately.

Elrohir looked to the sky, his eyes glazed with memories, "I know." he sighed.

O-o-O-o-O

When Harry returned to the camp, skin flushed from the cold water, the twins had already made camp, and spread some dried fruits and meats for him to eat.

"Eat," Elladan said softly to him, "We'll be back soon."

Harry picked up the food, but was too tired to even lift it to his mouth. By the time the twins returned, less than ten minutes later, Harry was already sound asleep with a blanket wrapped around him, the food untouched. Elrohir and Elladan smiled at one another wryly and shook their heads ruefully. Elflings!

Harry was awakened by hunger clawing at his stomach. The sun was already setting. The twins were sitting with their back to him and turned when he stirred. They offered him some supper. The simple food, flavoured only by hunger, burst on Harry's tongue pleasantly, and he felt as if his entire body was glowing in satisfaction.

They spoke no more for some time - the twins wore troubled expressions. Harry sat disconsolate, wondering what the trouble was. These elves were hard to figure out. They were nothing like any of the people he had met in his life so far.

Voldemort, for example had a blank face and never revealed anything, but his moods were easy to decipher and his secrets were well known. He was predictable.

The elves though...they were more unpredictable. Their faces were more mobile and their thoughts flowed over them like water, and yet, paradoxically, they seemed more hidden and full of secrets. At once more present and yet more remote. They could have killed him easily. Yet they had not. Why? Oh he was getting a headache!

Harry leant against a branch and leaned to look into the night sky. Even the skies were different here. He sighed miserably and continued staring discontentedly until one of the twins gently suggested he should get some rest. It did not take long for sleep to embrace him, despite the sadness of his thoughts.

O-o-O-o-O

"Can you see them El?" Elrohir whispered to his brother in Westron, knowing the elfling wouldn't understand them, even though he had fallen asleep nigh on two hours ago.

He was rewarded with a sharp nod, but his brother did not speak or take his eyes off the threat..

As Elrohir slowly drew his sword, a faint ringing sound echoed around. He also drew his bow, his eyes following the party of Orcs that were nearing them. "Should I wake him?"

Elladan nodded again and glanced behind him at the elfling, peacefully unaware.

Elrohir stood and gently shook the elfling's shoulder. Harry shot up, wide awake suddenly with fearful eyes, wrenching himself violently away from the hand. Elrohir stepped back abruptly and waited for the elfling to calm down.

"Little one, I need you to stay very quiet, and hide in the bushes, can you do that for me?" Elrohir asked softly.

He received a cautious nod, and smiled reassuringly. "Why?"

"We are about to come into the company of Orcs." Elrohir whispered.

He was greeted with an uncomprehending stare, but the elfling obeyed his previous wishes and slowly walked to hide. Before the child could hide, Elrohir stopped him.

"I know this is a bad time to ask little one, but do you know how to fight with a knife?" A shake of the elfling's head and a slightly incredulous look confirmed what Elrohir thought he already knew. He pulled an elvish knife from his boot and pressed it into the elfling's tiny hand, curling the small fingers around it so the elfling held it in a firm fist. "Hold it in a firm grip, like this, so you can drive it in. If you are attacked go for the head or neck if you can, only fight if you are attacked, otherwise, leave the fighting to Elladan and myself. Now go, hide!"

Elrohir watched as the elfling concealed himself, and hoped he did as good a job of it as he had when he was hidden from normal sight in an open clearing.

O-o-O-o-O

What the bloody hell were Orcs? Harry groused as he hid in the bushes. It wasn't in his Gryffindor nature to hide, but his Slytherin side thought it might be wise to bow out of this battle.

Harry felt his stomach tighten at the thought of a battle. How he wished he had his wand! Instead he had a knife. A knife that he didn't know how to use. Why _would_ he know how to use it, he thought sullenly, he had magic! He now wished Hogwarts had taught hand-to-hand combat, just in case, in the highly improbable situation that if you didn't have a wand, you would be able to defend yourself. But no. They didn't think of that did they? Perhaps they thought that if you lost your wand in battle, you were snookered. Harry didn't think they would be far off the mark.

There were feet crashing around them, and every now and then, Harry would hear a low growl that froze his blood. His pulse was hammering in his ears and he clutched the smooth handle of his knife until his knuckles were white. Harry gulped as the sounds came closer.

He finally heard a twang as the twins simultaneously released arrows and felled a couple of Orcs that Harry could not yet see.

Then, so quickly he almost didn't see, a huge black mass swooped into the area, growling and flashing swords around. Elladan and Elrohir sprang forward and hewed necks, jumping back as Orcs crashed down, spouting black blood. They were in a rhythm and seemed to have slain hundreds before Harry realised something was wrong.

One had sneaked around the fighting pair and was coming for him! Harry could see exactly what it looked like, even in the darkness: it was small and broad, with a flat nose, sallow skin and slanted, misty eyes that were looking directly at him. In short, it was hideous. His dagger was useless against such a thing!

Harry cast his eyes around frantically. Where was his wand when he needed it? His eyes lit upon the camp fire, and with sudden inspiration, he summoned his Gryffindor bravado, crawled out from the bush, grabbed a flaming branch from the campfire and he hit the creature. The flames burst into life. Harry watched horrified as the Orc beat wildly at the flames clawing their way up the Orc's armour and licking up its neck and hair, lighting it up like a beacon. The Orc screamed horribly and fell to the ground, writhing and wriggling like a tormented worm on a hook.

Immediately another Orc came for him, holding its sword aloft to slash him. Harry was still staring in revulsion at the screaming Orc and so didn't notice the danger until it was too late. It slashed his cheek with the tip of its sword before Harry pulled himself together to jump back. He swung the branch around and hit the Orc before the it could inflict any more damage on him. Grasping at another another branch before the old one could burn his fingers, he dispatched more and more Orcs. He was swinging the flaming branches around with abandon - there were so many Orcs, he could not fail to hit _something_.

Harry was aware of Elrohir moving over to him, hewing his way through the stinking Orcs, beset by three of them. Harry kept lashing out. Spurred on by adrenaline, he ignored the flaming pain inside his ribs, back and arm.

Yet another thing attacked him. He moved forward to hit it when Elrohir stepped forward and slashed its head off.

Just as suddenly as the clamour of battle had begun, it was over. There was stillness. Harry moved slowly as if expecting another confrontation. The battle was over. Gingerly, he touched his bleeding cheek and hissed violently. Now that the heat of battle was over he felt suddenly very weak at the knees and he was beginning to tremble. His skull felt like it had been filled with foam. He sank to the ground and let the dizziness wrap around him like a long woollen cloak. "I think I'm going to be sick." He muttered and felt Elrohir sink to the ground beside him. This was going to hurt.

"It's alright little one." Harry felt the words rather than heard them, like a ripple across his skin. "Are you hurt?"

Harry twitched his head to indicate he wasn't. The stench of death around them was overpowering and he vomited violently into the bush he was supposed to be hiding in. Elrohir and Elladan winced behind him as he gasped, retched and threw up again. His face screwed up in agony.

Harry finally stood, wiping his mouth and turned to the twins. "Are there any more?"

"I don't think so, little one." Elladan smiled grimly. "You did well. You are a determined fighter, though somewhat wild and uncontrolled. I believe you almost got my brother at one point."

Harry tried to smile back, but failed miserably.

Elrohir glanced at his brother meaningfully. "We need to burn these bodes, you take him away for a while. I'll find you when it is done."

Harry followed Elladan as they moved out of the battle field and collapsed in another empty clearing a hundred yards away. Elladan did not relax his vigilance, and Harry, despite his exhaustion, fought to stay awake to watch with him. They neither heard, nor saw, anything else that night, and at last, the eastern horizon began to lighten and the sun sluggishly lifted itself above the edge of the earth. Harry thought he had never been so glad to see another day. He turned to Elladan, and almost smiled. Smeared and splattered with foul black blood, they were not a pleasant sight.

O-o-O-o-O

The elfling had surprised them. He was a little fighter despite his bleak state, Elrohir thought as he piled up the burned, chopped corpses and set them alight after Elladan had left with the elfling.

He was too young to have seen such a battle though. At his age, he should still be under a mother's watchful eye, safely tucked away at home at her loving, gentle hand. Possibly being tutored. He shouldn't be in the middle of the wilderness, injured and having to fight for his life. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Elflings weren't supposed to be hurt or orphaned or left alone. Elflings were prized higher than anything at all – more than money, music or immortality. They were _supposed_ to be guarded and coddled and cared for away from the outside world. So what had gone wrong with this one? Why had this one been abandoned? Why was this one hurt?

He was a puzzle, and elves just loved a good puzzle.

**O-o-O-o-O**

**Author's notes! Thank you to all who took the time to review, I really appreciate it! In the next chapter, they should be getting to Rivendell! YAY!**

**I need your help in thinking of an Elvish name for Harry...**

**Sorry for any inaccuracies that may come up when I describe horse riding, I had 5 lessons of it, decided it was too painful and took up fencing instead!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	6. A Glimpse Of Rivendell

DISCLAIMER: IF YOU RECOGNISE IT THEN IT ISN'T MINE. NO MATTER HOW HARD THAT I WISH IT IS. 

A Glimpse of Rivendell

A golden haired lady was smiling serenely as she wandered back up a long flight of steps from a deep green hollow, almost floating.

"What has made you smile so Meleth nin?" A silver haired lord asked as the lady entered the room he was seated in.

"He is here." Was all the lady answered, in her deep, reverberating voice, continuing to smile secretly.

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Harry kept his eyes averted from the remains of the smouldering Orcs that had once attacked them. It was a horrible reminder of the writhing Orcs that he had torched. He had killed them. The statement struck him with a sudden horror. Never before had he murdered anything. He had wished it on some people – namely Voldemort, Snape, and Vernon - but the thought had never transformed into action.

It was do or die, a sudden stubborn thought fluttered through his mind. That Orc was going to kill him. The gash on his cheek was testimony to that. That Orc hadn't hesitated. That Orc wouldn't feel any remorse or grief over his death. Eat or be eaten. That was the way it was in the wild. Survival of the fittest. These thoughts, however, did nothing to ease the disquiet in his heart. Killing was _wrong_. He had _killed_. Killed without a thought, without mercy or guilt. Caused those Orcs an agonizing end. They were dead. Deceased. Demised. Departed. Never to breathe again. And it was his fault. He had caused it.

"We must move from here. It is dangerous." Elladan announced, wiping his sooty hands on some dewy grass he had pulled up from the ground, breaking Harry out of his depressing thoughts.

Harry had never felt so exhausted in his entire life, but the wish to get away from this terrible place was stronger the only thing stronger than that tiredness. He nodded drowsily and walked over to Assassin, eyeing the horse with distaste – absence did _not_ make the heart grow fonder.

o-0-o-0

Harry was beginning to think that the elves _never_ tired as he stared at Elladan's proud and straight back that had not wavered in the last few hours to betray even the _slightest_ weariness, even without a night's rest. It was immensely frustrating when he was so tired he felt like his body was going to fall apart as his limbs became increasingly heavy.

He studied the elves before him again as he had nothing better to do, head cocked to one side. Their faces were arresting, neither did they look old nor young. Their grey eyes held great experience and determination and mastered patience. Their mouths were set in a grim line, with traces of sadness and grief gathered at the corners.

They were great swordsmen and bowmen, and their bodies were built for speed, endurance and agility, they could be great seekers, Harry thought idly. Yet despite their talent, they had not boasted once, rather, they had brushed off their skill. They were so different from everyone Harry had ever met that he didn't know quite what to make of them. Perhaps he would get used to them in time.

"You will be able to see Anduin in a moment, little one." Elrohir informed Harry as they came over a hill and the glistening river came into view.

"We're not going to _swim_ that are we?" Harry asked in trepidation as he looked across at the swift river as it cut over jagged rocks and ripped at the banks without mercy.

Elladan chucked in front of them. "No, the _horses_ will swim, there is a raft further downstream that we can use."

Harry visibly sagged in relief. So long as he didn't have to swim, he would be glad to get off this blasted horse.

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Elrohir smiled gently and tightened his arms around the small bundle before him as the weight sagged against him. Finally, the elfling had given in to slumber.

He and Elladan had been surprised at how well the elfling was enduring the riding, even he and Elladan were tiring, so who knew what the poor _elfling_ was feeling. They had been riding hard all day, covering just over twenty leagues and the elfling had remained awake for the most part. It was now well past sunset and the stars were twinkling above, just peeping out from behind silver clouds.

They were making good time though, soon they would be coming to The Last Bridge, having bypassed Bree and Weathertop. There they would rest before crossing at the Bridge, and entering Trollshaw. The three of them would have to be wary there. They couldn't afford another run-in with Orcs, or worse. They had been lucky in the last battle, but in the next they may not be so. By the next evening, they should be entering Imladris just before dusk.

That brought Elrohir's mind back to the elfling in front of him as it so often did. What a strange elfling he was! What a curiosity! He had shown them that they should not underestimate him. Underestimation was fatal – it had proved so for those torched Orcs. There was something strange about this elfling, it was a long time since Arwen had been born, so Elrohir's memory might not be quite accurate, but it was not so jaded that he did not recognise that this elfling was very different from all previous elflings.

There were secrets hidden deep within this child that other elflings did not have. A dormant power, tingling just beneath his skin. And something else that Elrohir could not quite sense, perhaps it was just the elfling's undeniable _presence_ that made the hair on the back of Elrohir's neck stand on end when he came close.

Yet, as strange as the elfling might be, he was still a child, and he should be treated as such.

And what a coincidence it was that they found him when they did. Far away from any elven refuge, without a family, without any nearby contacts or tracks. It could be no mere chance that they met. The Valar had something to do with their fated meeting.

"Start looking for shelter 'Dan. It would be a joke if we came this far and dropped dead of exhaustion."

Elladan nodded and glanced behind at the sleeping child and his lips twitched into a smile. Elrohir found it nice to see his brother smile again. He had not smiled in so long. Funny what an elfling could do to a person.

They dismounted when they saw a tree with intertwining branches that almost touched the earth like an upside down bowl, a perfect shelter. Elrohir carefully tugged the child from Assassin's back, cautious not to wake him.

The elfling only stirred briefly and murmured in protest at being moved before falling asleep again.

Elrohir and Elladan didn't bother with a fire, they would be moving again in a few hours. It would be better for them just to rest. They ensured that the elfling was wrapped up warm before leaning against the tree, tumbling into elvish dreams with disconcerting swiftness, keeping their ears alert.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o

Harry was exhausted, hungry, aching, bruised, battered, wet, cold, fed up, and yet proud of his achievements as Elladan told him they were approaching Imladris. He had sat on a thing from hell for days, trudged through a storm on the same thing from hell and not complained _once, _not even when he was the stupid animal caused him pain. Yes, that was something to be proud of, Harry thought smugly. If everything had not been a blur of weariness and pain, Harry might have actually enjoyed the ride and the scenery.

Harry's smugness evaporated quickly and rapidly turned into a great anxiety as the came upon Imladris. He didn't know what to expect from this place, and that scared him. He would be greatly outnumbered in this place if anyone decided to turn against him. Why had he agreed to come on this foolhardy quest with the elves again? He couldn't think why for the life of him.

He gasped when he saw the valley. It was even bigger and more impressive than he had ever imagined it could be. Noble buildings rose gracefully into the sky, yet they were stern and powerful, lit with golden windows. Harry's apprehension increased. It felt old, immeasurably old, the intricate decorations looked like they had been there for many millennia. The land was peaceful and fertile, stretching all around them.

The grass beneath the horses hooves had changed from being sludge, to being springy and gentle.

"Welcome to Rivendell." Elrohir whispered in his ear.

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Elrond sighed as he leaned against the balcony adjacent to his study, gazing west, waiting for the pale light of sunset to curl its wing and surrender to another night. Another night that would pass without his children. It had been so long since he had seen them. Arwen had left for Lothlorien soon after Celebrian sailed because she could not cope with the grief and memories that Imladris held. At least he knew she was safe, he could not say so for his sons.

Teardrops of rain were falling, the remnants of the fierce thunderstorm they had been treated to that day; so fierce that the rain had made an impenetrable wall of a dreary grey, lit occasionally by a flash of sheet lightning, the wind had lashed about and clawed at everything, sometimes drowned out by a huge roar of thunder. A thunderstorm that his sons had been in, without a roof to shield their heads

A heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder and Elrond jumped, turning quickly, he came face to face with his blonde haired advisor and head warrior, Glorfindel.

"Come inside," The commander of the defences of Imladris ordered. "It is raining, it would not do for you to be soaked to the skin."

Elrond sighed again and allowed the other elf to guide him into his study, clearly just in time, as just as they closed the doors there was a huge clap of thunder heralding the storm's arrival again.

"It is not good for you to wait for them. They will come back to you when they are ready."

Elrond turned doleful eyes on Glorfindel. "Will they ever be ready to come back? Are they too consumed by their grief? Will they ever recover from such a loss?"

"Of course." Glorfindel answered confidently, though his eyes reflected the worry that Elrond felt in his heart. "When they are ready."

There was a sudden clattering in the courtyard below, and Elrond directed his eyes to the balcony but he could not see who was there.

"Ada!" A voice cried. That was Elladan's voice! Elrond raced towards the balcony and peered down at the hooded and cloaked people on the ground. "Ada!"

"Elladan! Is that you?"

"The very same! Come down and let us in! We're getting wet and we have news!"

Elrond felt hope blossoming in his chest when he heard Elladan's cheery tone. A slow smile spread across his face, and he glanced over at Glorfindel to see he was wearing one too.

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Elrohir smiled, finally, they were home. Rain was rolling down their cloaks, but it did not matter. Everything would be better now. He hopped off his horse and gently pulled the elfling off with him, trying to ignore the quickly stifled gasp of pain.

The doors of Imladris were flung open and Elrond came out, his arm spread wide. "Elladan." he said warmly, embracing his eldest son in a hug, laughing joyously. "It is good to see you." Elrond released Elladan and turned to Elrohir, capturing him in an embrace also. "I have missed you so. It has been too long."

"We are glad to see you too ada." Elladan smiled, answering for both himself and Elrohir.

"Ada, this is..." Elrohir realised at that moment that he did not know the name of the elfling they had been traveling with. He looked enquiringly at the elfling that was standing a distance away from them, but received a shrug in response. "This is Caladel."

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Harry stood awkwardly away as the family greeted one another. He was uncomfortable in situations like this. Family reunions were not his speciality, having never been included in any family of his own, he didn't know how to cope. He observed the newcomer from under his eyelashes, he didn't want to be caught staring at the Lord. He might not like it and Harry didn't want any enemies – especially not powerful enemies.

He gave Elrohir a weary incredulous look when he was named. Caladel? What kind of name was Caladel? He looked across to Elrond into a pair of warm grey eyes, identical to the twins' and swallowed deeply, but looked back into the eyes, determined not to shy away. Elrond smiled at him and he nodded his head awkwardly, trying to be polite, but was unsure what he was supposed to do before such a lord.

Elrond nodded back and sent a look at his sons that Harry could not decipher. He was quickly ushered into the building and would have stopped in wonderment but he was quickly shepherded further into the building.

"Glorfindel!" Elrohir cried and embraced another elf, this time one with golden hair. That was all Harry saw before a blackness swallowed him and he fell to the ground in a dead faint.

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Author's notes: I'm very sorry about all the fuss last week and I'm sorry for how long it took me to get this out. I won't bore you with reasons, but I do have them! I know this chapter is short, and I'm not happy with it at all, but I felt that I needed to get _something_ out for you, and I also wanted them to get to Rivendell.

Harry's new name means 'Light of an Elf' for all of you who want to know.

Also, here is the reply I got from Serafin:

I am glad that there are readers trying to protect authors' ideas and stories as well as authors who are responsible enough to check out any possible plagiarism. I am a grad student working toward a PhD in psychology and I have had work stolen from me in the course of my time in school. It is nice to know that there are people trying to protect others from that happening. I began to write The Power of Magic and Elves because I couldn't find an elfHarry fic that I really liked. When you told me that someone had accused you of plagiarism my first reaction was could it possibly be that similar? My second reaction was, is there another out there that I get to read? As for the accusation of plagiarism, yes, some plot points are similar. However, I borrowed many plot points from other stories and freely acknowledge that. If you had shamelessly paralleled everything I had written I would be upset but you did not. Personally I love your fic as well as its similarities and differences with my own. I am thrilled that so many of your reviewers have praised you for it and have read my fic as well (and seem to like it). I plan to add A New Beginning to my favorites and will be watching for updates. Please keep writing so your reviewers and I can continue to read a great addition to the HPLOTR crossovers (yes; that is my selfish request for an update as well). Keep Writing, Serafin 

Thank you for all your support everyone. Please review!!


	7. Anger, Grief and Hope

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that you recognise. No profit is being made from this.**

Anger, Grief and Hope

Almost immediately Elrond, the elf closest to Harry, fell to his knees and pressed the back of his hand to Harry's forehead. To Elrond's relief it was not feverish. He pulled his hand away and scooped it under the elfling's arms. Placing the other under Harry's legs, Elrond swept him up into his arms. Holding him gently, yet as securely and carefully as one would hold a baby bird, Elrond took off on winged feet towards the Healing rooms, knowing the others were following closely behind him.

Elrond carefully placed the elfling on a soft bed in the Halls and turned to his sons. "What are his injuries?" The change in mood was so sudden that it was impossible to find the moment when it had actually changed. So suddenly had everything gone from a welcoming, tranquil, joyous mood to a frantic, confused, serious and fearful one.

"I don't know." Elladan answered and received some incredulous and disbelieving looks from his father and Glorfindel - who had just realised what the child was. "He is uncomfortable and uncertain with us. He did not want us to near him. Only very recently has he trusted us even a slight amount. I think we need to give him his own space and back off whenever he becomes uncomfortable, that helped us gain some trust. Don't push him into anything." Elladan advised, and then continued to tell them what he knew. "He has a wound on his cheek from an encounter with yrch," Elladan spat the word like it had a foul taste to it and he received another pair of looks, this time they demanded an explanation after the elfling was healed. "But we checked it briefly and there appeared to be no poison thankfully. There also seems to be some damage to his ribs, but we do not know the extent."

Elrond felt for the clasp on the slippery cloak that the elfling was wearing, and finally found one. It was almost invisible and went from the left shoulder down to the right hand corner in an odd fashion.

"This cloak is magical, I believe." He announced after he finally managed to find the clasps. "I have never seen anything quite like it."

Elrohir nodded, realisation suddenly dawning on his face. "That would explain why when we found him he was concealed from our view; we could not see him, only hear him. If he had only been silent, we would not have noticed him at all."

Elrond nodded and finally managed to release Harry of the cloak, though it was so slippery and silky that it wriggled out of his fingers. "Feel it. There is an energy vibrating through it." He passed the cloak to Glorfindel who was still in a shocked stupor at seeing an elfling. Then Elrond looked back at his patient and slowly removed more clothing.

There were gasps or horror and disbelief as Harry's form was finally visible. His tiny body was a mass of colourful bruises and angry red lacerations.

"Who did this to him?" Glorfindel asked quietly. He came out of his daze when sudden anger assailed him. His eyes were wide and horrified.

Elrohir shook his head to indicate that he did not know who had injured the elfling. Unable to speak in the face of such a sickening sight, yet he was unable to tear his eyes from the prone body. If they had known...if they had known the state the elfling was in, they would not have pushed the elfling so hard! Elrohir swallowed around a lump that had appeared in his throat.

Elrond assessed his patient with clinical detachment; though inside his anger was bubbling like molten lava and he desperately wanted to avenge the elfling and for a brief moment his eyes blazed with a powerful hatred and his fingers twitched for a sword to be in them. How _**dare**_ someone do this to an elfling? Did they have no hearts?

"These wounds are healing very well. The bruises are also fading. It is his ribs I am concerned about." Elrond said with great care – suggesting that it was only with with considerable effort that he could manage that much without exploding.

Elrohir paled as he remembered all the times he had pulled Harry on and off the horse. It must have caused unimaginable pain. Why had the elfling never said anything?

Elrond glanced up at the scabbing slash mark that was still an angry red on the elfling's neck and turned his head towards his sons briefly, "What caused this?"

Elladan glanced at Elrohir and they gulped simultaneously. Here came the burst of wrath directed solely at them.

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"YOU DID WHAT?!" There it was. Elrohir and Elladan gulped again as Glorfindel, a normally placid elf hissed poisonously at them. It wasn't a shout. Glorfindel didn't shout. When Glorfindel was _very_ angry, he spoke in a very low, whisper-like hiss, that was infinitely more terrifying than a shout.

There had been a moment of complete silence, prior to the hiss, that was thicker than mud and seemed to press into everyone's ears - that was quite possibly worse than the actual outbreak of anger. The Balrog Slayer was a formidable opponent when his anger was roused, he was immensely intimidating; even in the silence his anger seemed to bleed from him and fill the room, pressing into every crevice.

The twins had never been on the receiving end of Glorfindel's anger, they had seen how impressive he could be, exactly the kind of person someone would rather be behind than up against in battle, and they had known that they never wanted to be prey to his anger. They had known that they would be in an awful lot of trouble with the elves for what they had done. But the pure fury and _disgust_ burning in Glorfindel's gaze shocked them. They dropped their eyes quickly to the floor to avoid the look, though they could still feel it burning holes through their skull.

Their father had not shown any reaction other than a slight tightening of his lips, a twitch of his fingers and to closely observe the wound on the small, vulnerable neck and then continue healing him.

"How could you? We have stood back and watched you succumb to anger for years, in the vain hope that your grief, your hatred, your darkness would abate. I waited in hope, but it did not wane. This has crossed the line of my endurance. This will cross the line of all elves' tolerance if they find out. We gave you time, we gave you freedom...and this is what you do with it? Do you know what you have done? Do you know what you are doing? Do you?" Glorfindel demanded, his voice chilling the air.

Glorfindel didn't say anything for a moment, and with every passing moment, the twins' were aware of the drumming of their hearts. Yet they dare not say a word, dare not even breathe in case that slight action would break the dam of self-control that Glorfindel was struggling with. So this is what the poor rabbit felt when the eagle began swooping in for the kill.

"I will tell you plain now, because it is clear that you cannot see past your own selfish purposes. You cannot rid Arda of the filth of Mordor! They will always come back until the source is destroyed. The two of you are insignificant to the numbers of that place. You **must**** stop** this murderous quest before you do something that cannot be repaired. I am terribly disappointed in you. Your mother would be terribly disappointed in you." His tone was even and his pitch never wavered, but somehow the twins could sense an undercurrent of passion in his words as he said the one thing that hurt the twins' hearts more than anything. It was worse than being stabbed in the stomach and they both gasped and were unable to remain silent any longer.

"They took her from us!" They burst out in unison. "They deserve punishing."

"I do not care if they take everyone you love from you. Take your revenge, yes, but do not drag innocents into what you are doing. Do not risk your own lives and the lives of others in a vain attempt to do the impossible. With every murder you commit, with every person's emotions you hurt, the gap between who is the criminal lessens. Would you be the greater criminal? Because what you have done shows that you may well become just that. What if the elfling had not been a curiosity to you? What if you had killed him as thoughtlessly as you slay the hoards of Orcs? Would you be absolved because you were wronged first? Would you be forgiven because it was a mistaken identity?"

The twins looked pleadingly at their father, but found his face entirely blank of emotion as he continued to use his power to help the elfling. They wished Glorfindel would shout at them, that he was almost laying their souls out before him and whispering their faults was hard to bear and even scarier to listen to. The sudden shock of reality also made their hearts bleed, had they really become so reckless? So thoughtless? The answer was simple.

"Your craving to kill the foulness of this earth has overcome your common sense. It nearly cost the life of an innocent. Have a care for the lives of others who live and care about you, if you have no regard for your own life! Have a care for those who might grow to love you. You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves." Glorfindel shook is head in disgust and looked down at Harry's prone form, turning his back on them, adding his own aid to the elfling.

"We are sorry Glory." Elladan whispered when his throat became unstuck, his eyes, sparkling with tears, cast to the ground. His brother nodded heartily in agreement.

Glorfindel turned mournful grey eyes to them. "Are you sorry enough to stop?"

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"He is as whiter than a sheet!" Glorfindel announced to the silent room, unable to remain content with the tense silence. They had been watching as the elfling lay in limbo for nearly an hour: neither asleep nor awake. "What _have_ you been doing to him?"

Elladan and Elrohir had already explained everything they knew while the elfling was sleeping – after they had done everything they could to heal him - but they were still clearly upset with the cold truth Glorfindel had fed them, and how he had delivered it. Glorfindel was also unhappy that a rift had come between him and the twins that he had helped to raise. He hated the fact that he had had to be so harsh, but what was said needed to be said. He decided that they had suffered enough and so offered a peace maker.

Elladan, still pale and shaking from the encounter with Glorfindel's anger, saw the olive branch that was offered to them and grasped it with both hands. He gave a slight smile, though it was devoid of any humour. "I do believe that it was your face that made him faint." Their eyes met and a mutual understanding passed between them: they had done a terrible wrong, to something unbelievably precious, yet they were given a chance to redeem themselves, and they were going to do everything they could to do so.

Glorfindel smiled and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was awe that he fainted from then?"

"Do not flatter yourself." Said an amused voice of a new elf as he entered the room, carrying a tray topped with food, looking straight at the group of elves gathered together. He had pale, smooth skin, obsidian hair and clear blue eyes that appeared iridescent. "I believe you have woken all of Imladris with your clattering. I came to see what the fuss was all about." Erestor explained, his eyes flickering upon the elfling and the twins; "I am sure nobody will mind being woken when they see the occasion!" Then he shrugged, lightening the dark mood that had become crushing. "Besides, I thought you may be hungry." He said in a way of explanation for his presence there.

The twins' eyes lit up. REAL FOOD!

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Harry came to his senses slowly. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt like they were sticky and hard as though they had been stuck together with glue. He focussed all his energy on working the tiny muscles in his eyelids to pry them apart and blearily blinked his eyes open, pushing away the black speckles that remained in his vision.

His head felt ten times heavier than it actually was and it felt like it was throbbing or buzzing. It was a decidedly odd sensation that he couldn't quite describe. Blissfully, it wasn't painful. Regaining a greater grasp of consciousness, Harry realised that he was in a bed - a very soft plain white bed. The Hospital Wing? No. The ceiling was different here. In the Hospital Wing the ceiling was arched and made of stone. This ceiling had dark, carved wood beams on a flat ceiling. Also, the light in the hospital wing at Hogwarts that never failed to blind him didn't dazzle him here. Was that water trickling? That was different from Hogwarts too; the lake didn't make enough noise for it to be heard in the Hospital wing. The smell pf the hospital wing at Hogwarts alternately had a stifling smell of cleanliness or the stench of potions. Here the air was fragrant and light. His face screwed up in confusion. Where was he?

"Are you in any pain?" A melodic voice asked from Harry's left. Harry froze and turned his head sideways to the golden haired elf that he had seen last night. He couldn't quite remember his name as it had been said just before he passed out.

Harry shook his negatively. "I'm numb." he answered, realising he could hardly feel his body.

"Of course he is numb!" An amused voice, which Harry recognised as one of the twins', said from the other side of him. "With all that numbing tea Elladan poured down his neck!"

Harry glanced about the room properly. There were five elves in all: Elrohir, Elladan, their father, the golden-haired elf and another black haired elf. Harry licked his lips nervously, uncomfortable with being the centre of their scrutiny.

Elrond leaned forward and picked up a glass of shimmering, colourless liquid, "Here, drink this."

Harry looked curiously at the glass in Elrond's hand but made no move to take it from him.

"It's miruvor. It will help you regain your strength." Elrond answered in reply to Harry's curious look and proffered the glass again.

Harry tentatively reached out for the cool glass and held it cautiously, as if expecting it to explode in his hand.

The drink ran over his tongue crisply, and went down his throat like a silky flame, dancing all the way down and settling in his stomach. A pleasant weight and warmth rippled down his body, giving him energy and feeling again. Harry sighed in relief.

"Thank you," he murmured. He looked at them all again and wasn't sure what to do. He shifted nervously and twisted the bedcovers around in his fingers. "Erm...you don't all need to stay with me." He muttered, not wanting to seem rude and ungrateful, but he was not at all comfortable with their stares and attention, but as soon as the words had slipped out he wished fervently that he could take them back. It did not escape his attention that from the bandages wrapped around various parts of his body these elves had healed him, especially as now, his ribs and back were not burning with pain, it seemed more of a dull ache.

Elrond smiled sadly, recalling what Elladan had said earlier and heeded his advice. "It is no trouble Caladel. Perhaps we should leave you now though to allow you to get dressed? Your clothes are waiting for you over there." Elrond pointed to a chair where lay a long sleeved white shirt, a silver under robe and a dark moss green over-robe. They were patterned simply with silver embroidery about the neck and sleeves. That had previously been one of the twins' outfits.

Harry grimaced at the choice of Slytherin colours.

"Elrohir and I will come back for you once you are dressed." Elladan offered. "We'll take you to the kitchens to get some food."

Harry nodded gratefully and the five elves left.

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Elladan knocked on the door twice before both he and his brother entered.

Lying on the bed was Harry, staring blankly at the sky as though his thoughts were in another world. Both Elladan and Elrohir had seen these brooding moods on the child, it was not unusual for him to become lost in thought and for the tortured expression of loss to cross his face. Yet there was something different about Harry now.

Gone was the lost, injured and frail elfling that looked like he needed mothering and loving. In his place was a warrior, a tortured soul stained with sadness and grief, but a soul that had come out on the other side victorious. He reminded the twins of someone, but who, they did not know.

"Those clothes have worked a miracle on you!" Elladan announced. The elfling shook himself and looked over at Elladan with his piercingly green eyes. Elladan felt for a moment like cold water had been tipped over him. "In any case, you need to eat. Travelling food, for all its goodness, is not intensely pleasurable to eat."

Harry hummed his agreement and followed Elrohir and Elladan down a twisting corridor. The walls bore no decoration except for the elegant carvings around the doors, windows and the skirting boards.

"What do you think of our home?" Elladan asked.

"It's beautiful." Harry said emphatically. Indeed it was beautiful, the simplicity and yet complexity of this building was awe-inspiring; the strength was embraceable – to Harry, it was a place evocative of the palaces in fairy tales he had heard Aunt Petunia reading to Dudley as a child.

The twins took Harry into a huge kitchen. A scrubbed deep brown oak table took centre stage in the room with plates, pans, pots, and all other kinds of objects suspended above it along with clumps of dried herbs and onions. Jars of various seeds and nuts, oils and fruit and vegetable preserves were lining the walls.

The kitchen was buzzing with life as elves prepared for the midday meal. The elves stopped what they were doing at the sight of Harry, but a warning look from Elladan, a Lord of Imladris, silenced them from saying anything and they got back to work. Occasionally, unable to resist, their eyes swivelled to sneak a look at Harry,.

The head cook, Camaen, sauntered over to Elladan, Elrohir and Harry.

"A good morn to you Camaen," Elladan greeted, then slipped effortlessly into his most charming persona - as easily as putting on a glove. "Caladel here missed break of fast. Could you, perhaps, spare some food?"

Camaen rolled her eyes at Elladan as she had seen this show many times before. Glancing curiously at Harry she obligingly ordered some food for him...she could make exceptions to every rule for elflings of course, and this elfling looked like he needed feeding up.

"What have you been doing to him?" Camaen asked after a very _very_ condensed version of how the twins had come across Harry was related to her - she was told nothing about any mistreatment. Her head cocked to one side as she placed a plate full of food before Harry, she continued. "He's thinner than a stick."

"Us? Why does everyone keep blaming us?" Elrohir said in exasperation, his eyes glittering with humour. "Where is the sympathy for us anyway? We've been living on that hideous travelling food for _years._"

Camaen snorted delicately, "Sympathy? For the two of you? HA! You've been eating Caladel's food no doubt."

Elladan who had ignored the conversation, suddenly piped up. "Are those_ blueberry pancakes_?" Elladan reached out and stole one from the elfling's plate. He looked up innocently when he heard Camean chuckle. "What?" He asked in confusion.

"See! I said the two of you ate all the food."

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Harry was unsure what to make of this place. So many elves were staring at him, but not one of them had shown any hostility and none approached him for some reason. He had to reluctantly admit to himself that he was beginning to trust the elves. He had no reason to not trust them after all, only his own misgivings and past dealings with people. Perhaps these people would be different. Harry sighed mentally. He was too trusting for his own good. Attatchment was a dangerous thing, it only led to heartache in the long or short run.

Elrohir and Elladan were currently showing him all of Rivendell, which was unfurling before him like a nautilus shell, unveiling hidden mysteries and beauty. Just like Hogwarts...except less castle-like.

Elladan kept up a running commentary of where everything was and what everything did, just like a perfect host. "That is the great hall." Elladan pointed as they approached two great doors. "We eat in there. I expect that there will be a feast tonight to welcome Elrohir and myself home and of course, to welcome you here and celebrate you."

"Celebrate me?" Harry asked, glancing up from his new minuscule height that he was still adjusting to. "You would celebrate me?"

"Why of course!" Elrohir was talking now. He stopped walking and placed a cautious hand on Harry's shoulder that Harry did not reject. "You had better get used to the fact that you are in another world now, where everyone is considered worth the trouble of being cared for. You are a gift to all elves Caladel, a very special gift." Elrohir squeezed Harry's shoulder very gently, removed it and began walking again. "News of your existence is already being discussed by most of the elves here with great excitement," Elrohir grinned, "there are already many different tales about you, with varying degrees of accuracy."

Harry was no stranger to what gossip could invent about a person - he would probably not like some of the inaccurate, exaggerated stories.

Elrohir must have noticed he had depressed Harry because he swiftly changed the conversation to something more upbeat.

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Elrond slipped out of the shadows silently and wandered serenely back to his office where Glorfindel was waiting for him, his chest bubbling with pride for his sons and from the sight he had seen.

"It is nice to see them smile once again, is it not?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrond turned to him and smiled softly. "Yes. I was worried that I would never see them smile or laugh again, but they are joking with the cook again – just like they used to."

Glorfindel smiled gently back at Elrond, and then addressed the issue he needed to speak of. "I hope you do not think I was too harsh with them last night, but what was said needed to be said."

Elrond waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. "You were correct mellon nin. I would never have believed that my sons would ever become so careless and thoughtless in their actions that they would do that to an elfling!"

"And what of the elfling? That is astonishing news indeed, we thought no more had been born since Arwen." Glorfindel asked. "What will become of him?"

Elrond sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, suddenly looking every one of his years. "I do not know my friend, I do not have the answers to what you seek. I wish I did. All the realms must know of him before any decision can be reached."

"Of course, Heruamin." Glorfindel smiled gently again and wandered over onto the balcony, into the sun. The storm the previous night seemed to have scoured the sky clean and bright. "I see your sons are delighting in dragging Caladel around Imladris!"

Elrond glanced over to Glorfindel and contemplated the change that had occurred, seemingly overnight. He had thought that his sons would never return to him, and if they did, they would not be happy. After hearing what they had done last night, he had almost wished they had not returned to him. Yet, here they were, picnicking in Rivendell's gardens with an elfling, smiling happily and not once did they seem to be thinking of their mother. They were seemingly determined to make amends for their faults. Perhaps this could be a new beginning for them all.

**Translations:**

**Heruamin – my lord**

**mellon nin – my friend**

**Authors notes: Well, I had horrendous writer's block with this chapter - I found it very hard to write and make it realistic. I hope you like it.**

**If you have any requests, comments or there is anything you would like to see in this story please let me know! I don't bite :D**


	8. Hell's Where?

DISCLAIMER: ANYTHING YOU RECOGNISE ISN'T MINE. THAT HONOUR BELONGS TO THE GENIUSES THAT ARE J.K.ROWLING AND J.R.R.TOLKIEN.

Hell's Where?

In a large room made of iron and black, reflective stone, Voldemort sat upon his tall black marble throne, which stood in the middle of the room on a low dais, offering more grandeur than the monstrous creature that sitting atop it deserved.

His white, spindle-like fingers flexed on the arm of the throne almost unnoticeably as Wormtail's simpering voice delivered news that he did _not_want to hear.

Harry Potter was missing.

Missing! How dare that little _brat_ slip through his plans again? Slip through his carefully placed nets? He had been thwarted once again by Harry _bloody_Potter! And apparently, he had been missing for a week! Why had he not been informed of this most important discovery immediately?

He was not a happy lord.

"My…my lord…we don't know how this happened! We are…we are trying to find…" Wormtail's panicked voice cut through his mental fury like a hot knife through butter and his eyes blazed red.

"You should have found out before you came to me!" He hissed cruelly not allowing the groveling fool to finish his pleads. "Crucio!" The curse rolled off his tongue as though it was a mere afterthought.

Voldemort watched almost indifferently as the sniveling creature writhed beneath his feet on the cold stone floor, his arms and legs twitching with such force that his muscles seemed to be in danger of being torn from his bones. Wormtail's eyes had rolled back into his head completely, so only the whites of his eyes were visible, yet he made not a sound, even though his mouth was gaping like a fish's. He was in too much pain to make a noise.

Voldemort's white lips twitched sadistically into a small smirk of satisfaction. It would be poetic justice for the rat to lose his mind after all the grief that he caused him. But alas, he had not served his full potential yet, Voldemort thought sorrowfully as he was forced to cancel the curse.

"Get out of my sight Wormtail; do not bother me again until I call for you," Voldemort spat in a hiss. "Tell the others I do not wish to be disturbed."

"O…of… cou…course…my…my lord," Wormtail managed, his voice hoarse even though he had not been screaming; the lingering effects of the curse would remain with him for a while. "Than…thank you. You are most mer…merciful, my Lord." He began fervently kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes, apparently lost in a submissive reverie, until finally, he stopped and scuttled backwards on his hands and knees before he stood up and backed out of the room, almost falling over, he reached the door and slipped out, never turning his back on his lord.

Voldemort sank back into his throne, his eyes gleaming red still, like a smoldering fire. It was the only thing that lit up the dark room at that moment.

He needed to amend his plans.

They had been _planning_ to ambush Harry on his seventeenth birthday while he left Privet Drive. But that was obviously not feasible as the little _brat_ had escaped again and was probably well away from Surrey now.

How he had escaped eluded Voldemort's knowledge. He had had his most trusted and powerful servants posted around the street day and night, and while they could not get very close to the house because of the blood magic, they would have been able to prevent anyone apparating away from it or into it.

Damn that blood magic! It got in the way of _all_ his ingenious schemes. Voldemort's eyes widened suddenly. The blood magic! It would no longer exist! He could enter number four Privet Drive at last. How could he have been so foolish to forget that?

A morbid smile slowly stretched its way across Voldemort's twisted face as he began cackling with glee.

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Vernon Dursley was not a happy man. No sir. Not a happy man at all. In fact, one might go so far to say that he was in _foul_ mood.

Ever since that damned _freak_, Potter, had deemed it fit to disappear from right under their noses things had been going downhill in his life.

Those_wizards_ had been hounding him at all hours of the day and night, demanding him to retell the story of Harry's summer over and over again; threatening him with all kinds of things. What right did they have to come on his premises and _threaten_ him? What right did they have to demand things of him?

He had done everything that was asked of him. He had given that boy a roof over his head, fed him enough to keep him alive, put clothes on his back even though the little rat didn't deserve it and they were still demanding more! Didn't they realise that he didn't have to do all those things? He could just have easily put the boy in an orphanage and washed his hands clean of the entire thing. But he hadn't. What credit did he get for that? None! They were so ungrateful. He had kept that bloody boy until he was seventeen, hadn't he been promised by that old wizard that he would never be bothered by the freaks again if he kept him that long? That they would never darken his doorstep again? Yes, he had.

Vernon couldn't believe that he had fallen for that trick, they were unnatural folk after all; they weren't honourable men like he was,_they_ wouldn't keep their word. Perhaps they had spelled him, as under normal circumstances, he would not have been such a fool to believe those kinds of lies. He was _far_ too intelligent for that of course.

Oh, Vernon Dursley was not a happy man.

If that doorbell rang one more time…!

It was becoming wearisome repeating the clever lies that he and Petunia had thought of. And really! It was getting ridiculous to continue this lying; there was no point to it. He had a right to discipline the boy in any way he chose. Petunia thought otherwise though, and so Vernon had to grudgingly comply with her wishes – she knew more about the freaks than he did after all.

The doorbell rang again.

Oh, that boy was going to pay when he got home!

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Some leagues from Imladris' border, many elven warriors were starting to set up a camp for the evening. Their horses were roaming free about them, as they were so loyal to their masters that they would not stray far, they also provided perfect security – nothing would be able to infiltrate the camp without the horses warning them.

Two royal elves stood in the centre of the camp, hand in hand, observing the work with all-knowing eyes.

"My lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn," An elf with blonde hair and sharp grey eyes said, seeming to appear out of nowhere, bowing his head respectfully "Your tent is prepared. We shall be arriving at Rivendell in two days if we keep up our pace and we remain unhindered by orcs or other evils. It would not do for you not to be well rested when we arrive."

"Thank you Haldir," Celeborn answered, dipping his head in reply and gently placed a hand on his wife's arm to lead her to the tent.

Haldir bowed his head again and wandered off to help continue the preparations of camp.

He felt everybody's eagerness to be moving and active. Ever since Lady Galadriel had announced to them that an elfling was in Imladris, they had all been eager to go and meet him and when they had finally set off, they had gone with a spring in their step. They were making a very quick pace because of this.

Haldir smiled and shook his head ruefully, they may be immortal, but they could be just as impatient and eager as children sometimes – with the right incentives.

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"What do I do at the feast?" Harry asked Glorfindel nervously and cautiously as he waited to go to the Hall, toying with a moss green tassel that was tied around his waist, raveling it and unraveling it around his fingers in rapid succession.

The twins had left him in the care of Glorfindel while they prepared to go to the feast and with each passing moment the nerves knotting and twisting in Harry's stomach were becoming more and more pronounced. His heart was pounding against his ribs and the only way to relieve the tension was through his fidgeting.

Glorfindel turned to him and smiled warmly. "Just be who you are," He winked. "People will forgive you of many things. And remember, it is a celebration, not an exam!"

He was trying to be reassuring, but Harry thought that by saying that people would forgive him for any mistakes meant that he _would_make them. Why did he have a feeling this was going to be a disaster?

"Have you ever been to a feast before, Caladel?" Glorfindel asked and Harry was so nervous that he didn't realise that Glorfindel was prying gently into his past.

"Not one like this," Harry answered, wringing his hands as his eyes darted around the room anxiously. "That feast didn't make me nervous… there were lots of people and I was never the centre of attention and…" Harry snapped his jaw shut as he realised his nervousness was making him babble.

"We can go into the hall before the other elves enter should you like it. Be prepared for much conversation and curiosity about you – all the more since you are turning up looking like a prince, there are many imaginative minds here and in the absence of facts, we elves tend to invent things. You will be sitting at the High Table beside me, with Elladan on the other side of you, if you are uncomfortable in _any_ way at _any_ time, you must tell us. We would give you some more numbing potion, but Elrond fears that you would fall asleep."

The way Glorfindel had stressed the word 'any' told Harry that he was speaking not just of his injuries, but his mental well-being also. His face flushed in shame and he ducked his head quickly.

"It's a feast Caladal! And it is not frightening so stop looking like a scared rabbit," Glorfindel repeated. "Elrond told all the elves that you are here, and that you not to be asked questions," Seeing Harry still looked uneasy, he added "Stay close to me and you will be fine."

"I'll stick like a burr then," Harry quipped and smiled openly at Glorfindel for the first time.

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Harry sat wedged in between Elladan and Glorfindel, as promised. He was very grateful to be beside elves he vaguely knew, he found their presence somehow supporting as the curious gaze of every elf in the room fell onto him like a crushing weight. He kept his head ducked but he could still feel their burning looks.

When he had first entered the hall with Glorfindel, it had been completely empty except for some servants who smiled at him and cocked their heads to one side in wonder, but otherwise got on with their jobs.

Harry had had a chance then to look about in wonder. It had a very beautiful room, with a high vaulted roof like the one in the Hospital Wing, with plain white walls which were split occasionally by wide arched windows that overlooked incredible gardens.

Inside the room it was a panorama of colours and pleasant aromas. Long tables were set in rows the length of the hall, a rich, heavily embroidered gold cloth splayed upon all of them with fine white bowls and plates. Huge, burnished silver, finely wrought candelabra were placed on the tables at regular intervals so they filled the hall with a soft, even light.

Every table was crowded with bowls of heaped fruits and fresh bread of different shapes and sizes – some were made with herbs, others were made with seeds, there was brown bread and white bread; there were pungent cheeses and sliced meats, some fresh, some smoked; and there were tarts and pies and preserve. Harry thought that it was like a feast from Hogwarts – medieval style.

He was incredibly grateful that they had gone into the hall early because when he had tried to take his place, his head only just reached above the table. His face had burned bright red when Glorfindel had to put many cushions on the chair before he could sit on it and reach over the table. Glorfindel seemed to find it very amusing however.

So far, Harry had had no more chance to observe the splendour as he had kept his eyes cast on his plate, trying to block out all the conversations until it became nothing more than a gentle hum, concentrating on the steady presences about him instead.

Elrond stood slowly from the top of the high table, ready to greet all the elves and announce the start of the feast. Silence quickly descended upon the hall.

"Welcome," Elrond said, in a voice that effortlessly filled the entire hall. "As you are all no doubt aware, we are graced with the company of Caladel and my sons this evening." There was a small drop of a warning and a reminder in Elrond's voice, yet it was laced with joy, pleasure... and was that pride?

Harry looked up at the sound of his new name and saw all the faces looking at him and unconsciously shifted in his seat, very uncomfortable.

"This feast is held in honour of them. So, without further ado, may the feast begin!" Elrond announced smiling and the buzz of excitable chatter began again, plates and cutlery clinking as all the elves began filling their plates with food.

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At great length the feast ended and Elladan was glad of it. While he was not moved by the stares and the whispers - it was something one got used to being the son of the Lord of Rivendell - Harry was clearly very disquieted by them. Elladan felt a strange sense of protectiveness rise inside him like a tidal wave.

They made their way to the Hall of Fire with a sated stroll, at least there Harry would not be constantly watched by the elves'. Elladan could understand why they were staring, he was sure that if he had not already met the elfling, he would stare at him too – he seemed to remember staring at him for most of the night after they had met him after all– but could they not see they were making Harry nervous? Had not his father warned them not to stare? Elladan sighed mentally.

They settled into seats prepared for them beside the fire and Elladan twisted to watch the minstrels take up their places with their instruments and begin tuning them.

"There are going to be many songs and stories told this night." Elladan heard Elrohir tell Harry, who was sat in between the two of them. "If you remain awake for them, you may hear something you find of interest."

Harry only hummed in answer as Lindir stood and began speaking.

"By your leave, tonight I shall sing a song to Elbereth." Lindir struck a chord on his harp and began the sad tale of Elbereth.

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Harry sat entranced through many of the songs - he had been peacefully undisturbed. All the elves seemed to have their own agendas that did not involve him and, though he felt the occasional concerned look, he was mainly ignored. He could get used to this.

While the songs were sung, he was taken on a journey with them. With every rise and fall of Lindir's voice he saw visions of what had happened, it was bliss to be taken away from the world he was in and away to a different place. It was refreshing to be given such a chance and Harry wanted to stay listening to the songs forever.

However, the night was falling fast and Harry was growing tired, already many of the stars that had been sung about were lighting the sky with their glory. There were no lights in the Hall of Fire, only the flames dancing in the hearth illuminated the room. It provided such a pleasant warmth, the atmosphere was so calm and feeling sated it was easy to become drowsy.

Harry's eyes were almost closed when he heard another song that captured his attention and he forced his mind out of its haze to listen.

"Gil-galad was an Elven-king.

Of him the harpers sadly sing:

The last whose realm was fair and free

Between the mountains and the sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen.

His shining helm afar was seen.

The countless stars of heaven's field

Were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,

And where he dwelled none can say.

For into darkness fell his star;

In Mordor, where the shadows are."

When the singing stopped and people clapped, Harry blinked his eyes as he was released from yet another enchantment. "I think it is time you were abed, little one," Glorfindel whispered in his ear – clearly having noticed the lead weights that pulled on Harry's eyes. Harry looked up sleepily and nodded, though he was very reluctant to leave.

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Author's notes! You are very lucky to get this chapter as my laptop decided to break last week…Ironically, I was just thinking of backing up. When I found the computer flat, I tried to plug it in to the mains and it started smoking! Argh! I hate computers. Anyway, so now, my computer is in hospital : ( and I'm on my mum's computer. LOL, I know that it is a bit short, but I thought it was better than nothing.

Please review and tell me what you think, I'll love you forever if you do XD

Huge thanks to **panther73110**, XinnLajgin, **Hannah**, Angelkitty77, **Wolven Spirits**, methoslover, **lilyflower01**, Laura-Shi, **TeRa SloAn**, insanechildfanfic,**Yana5,** Silvermane1, **Wild KS Phoenix,** Inziladun,** yamiyugi23**, klnolan, **Lucy**, Olaf74**for taking the time to review:D **

**Oh yeah! Who would you like Harry adopted by? I'm thinking either Glorfindel or either Elrohir and Elladan, but if you have any other ideas, please let me know! **

**I'm trying to avoid Elrond, because everyone seems to have him adopting Harry, but if you all want him, then I'll see what I can do. **

**Thanks a lot.**


	9. The Council

Disclaimer, I do not own anything you recognise – J.K. Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien own them, I only play with their worlds.

The Council

Two days later, Harry was still languishing in bed after a deep sleep. For the first time since he had left the Dursley's house, he was waking without fear of what would happen that day. Stretching out luxuriously he listened to the sounds of elves talking quietly outside the window, the twitter of birds and instruments being tuned.

Under Elrond's watchful eye and healing hands, he was healing well and nothing bad had happened yet. His ribs and back felt much better; the pain was still there, but it was within bearable limits now.

Throwing his feet over the side of the bed, Harry padded across the room and slipped into some silky clothes that had been laid out for him the night before and wandered out of the room he had been given without any particular destination in mind.

"Good morning Caladel," A voice called from down the corridor and Harry jumped a mile; whirling around quickly, looking much like a startled cat, Harry looked up at Elrohir's grinning face and barely restrained a scowl.

"I was just coming to wake you," Elrohir said in a placating tone, his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace. "My father needs to speak with you."

Harry nodded and followed Elrohir to the Hall of Fire where Elrond sat waiting for him. Elrohir nodded to his father in greeting and then swiftly left the Hall leaving Harry alone.

"Come Caladel, sit with me," Elrond gestured with an elegant hand at a chair beside the fire.

Harry nervously shifted into the seat, sitting on the very edge of it, poised for flight, trying to hide that he was doing so.

"How are you feeling?" Elrond started casually, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers together in front of him, giving Harry his full attention – as though he had all the time in the world to sit and listen to him. Harry was reminded with a sad pang of Dumbledore.

"I'm fine," Harry answered reflexively, not relaxing in the slightest.

"Yes," Elrond said pensively, "You're healing well. Better than I would have expected, you are almost at full fitness once again, but that is not what I was asking. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Harry repeated a little more forcefully than he intended.

Elrond sighed in answer, but did not press the subject much to Harry's relief. "I have received news that delegations from Lothlórien and Mirkwood are coming here. They will arrive this afternoon," Elrond studied Harry closely, "There will be a High Council this evening to decide what will happen to you."

Harry paled at those words; he knew he had been too trusting.

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Elrond watched the elfling's face pale dramatically at his words and hastily clarified, "It will be your choice ultimately, do not worry. You will be presented with different options, it is not something to fear, nothing bad will happen. It is for your own good. We want what is best for you."

Disbelief and distrust flashed momentarily through those unique green eyes. 'What has happened to you?' Elrond thought sorrowfully, feeling like shouting the words in his frustration. 'What is the cause of such distrust towards us? We only want to help you!'

"Will I have to leave here?" The elfling's quiet voice pulled Elrond out of his thoughts.

"If you wish to stay, you are more than welcome to," Elrond smiled and received a nod of understanding, not one of answer. "In any case, as I said, it is not something that you need to worry about," Elrond told Harry, ignoring his skeptical look. "For now though, it is almost time for lunch and you should eat. You may be getting better, but you need food to keep up your progress."

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Harry stood fidgeting between Glorfindel and Erestor on the steps as they waited for the Lothlorien to arrive.

"Caladel," Glorfindel called softly. Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts and nervousness that he jumped at the sound.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes light heartedly but Harry got the impression that it was a forced gesture.

"Come now Caladel, there is no need to be nervous. I'm sure Lord Elrond has already explained to you that we all wish what is best for you. It is important that correct decisions are made now, so you can have the best possible time as an elfling and the only way we can make the best decisions is through talking." Glorfindel reached out a hand slowly and placed it carefully on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently, pleased when he received no adverse reaction. "You are going to be grilled for answers by two different well-meaning realms, so you can count yourself unlucky there though!" Glorfindel chuckled to himself.

Harry, for neither love nor money, could see what was funny about that and gazed incredulously up at the elf, trying to quell the suspicion all the elves were making light of the Council and the meetings to rid him of his anxiety. Instead, he concentrated once again on where the new elves would be coming from at any moment.

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Glorfindel exchanged a nervous look with, Erestor, Elrond and his sons as they saw the delegation from Lothlorien approaching. They did not know how Harry would react to Galadriel and her magic, if she tried to invade his mind…well…

Casting a discreet look downwards they saw the child had once again taken to staring intently between the trees, looking a rather interesting shade of green – unaware of their own misgivings.

Elrond masked his worry expertly when the group from Lothlorien reached them and stepped forward to greet his mother-in-law and father-in-law. "Welcome my Lord, my Lady to Imladris. It is an honour to see you again."

"No need for such formalities Elrond," Celeborn said jovially as he dismounted from his horse elegantly, offering a hand to help his wife down.

His wife said not a word, her eyes fixed on Harry.

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Harry stared into the face of the Lady Galadriel for a moment, before it began to swim in his vision. For a moment he thought he was going to pass out, then suddenly, he was elsewhere; captured in a whirling storm of confused memories. Overwhelmed with memories of his own life. Memories he had forgotten or pressed to the back of his mind.

They came in a flood, in no order; almost as if his entire life was occurring within minutes, but some stood out. Voices from his past spoke to him, all the emotions from those times swirling up within him.

Memory after memory of his time at Dursley's: the numbing boredom, the pain, the exhaustion, the humiliation 'I'm going to teach you a lesson boy. A lesson you won't forget. I'm going to beat it out of you, like I should have done a long time ago.' … Hagrid saying the words that set him free and yet paradoxically imprisoned him 'Harry – yer a wizard,' how bitterly cold that night had been, how bittersweet … His mother, holding him tightly in her arms, her voice a whisper as she spoke her goodbyes to an uncomprehending baby 'be brave my little one, and always follow your heart, you remember that my son, I love you,' … The total blankness in Cedric's eyes as he lay dead by his feet, the chilling mercilessness of Voldemort's voice as he commanded 'Kill the spare,'… the bleakness and undeniable truth of the prophesy intoning 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…'

The laughter and joy he had felt at the pranks the twins pulled … those famous words 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,'… His blinding fury directed at Bellatrix as he screamed 'Crucio!' after she had murdered Sirius … The loneliness and hurt he felt when Ron had ignored him during the Triwizard tournament … The sorrow he felt when Dumbledore told him that he could not visit the Mirror of Erised again 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,' … His powerlessness as Dumbledore was taken from him with those two simple words, 'Avada Kedavra.'

Those words that had ruined his life.

Harry shook his head violently from side to side as the emotions and images overwhelmed him. An intolerable anguish consumed him, beyond any grief he had ever felt and it gathered in his mind, growing and growing until it became too much for him to bear. 'NO!' He screamed mentally and felt the probing fingers that were attacking his mind retreat. He felt a sharp pain in his hand as he collapsed to the ground, unable to remain standing any longer.

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Elrond heard a body thump to the ground behind him and was certain he knew the cause. He turned abruptly on his heel, ignoring all decorum for a far more important cause. He saw that Glorfindel had already picked Harry into his arms. Harry was unconscious, just as Elrond had thought he would be.

He turned back around to his mother-in-law, his grey eyes frosty, barely restraining glaring at her. Shock and confusion was written clearly over her face. It seemed that her mouth would have dropped open if not for her royal upbringing that did not condone such things. Glancing over at Celeborn, he noticed that he too was glaring at his wife.

Galadriel shook herself out of her shocked stupor and looked at them, pale and distressed shaking her regal head in disbelief and horror, her right hand rubbing her left wrist unconsciously. "I did not know he would react so badly."

"You did not even wait to be introduced to him before you violated his privacy!" Elrond cried, unable to restrain himself any longer. He was so frustrated that his mother-in-law was unable to control her curiosity like the rest of them, thereby putting the elfling's trust in a very tentative position.

"I…I am sorry." Galadriel said; her eyes wide as she watched Glorfindel retreat inside with the elfling still in his arms, cradled like a baby. The elves were shocked: it was not often that Galadriel stuttered…or that she apologised.

"It is not us that you should be apologizing to," Elrond replied, not quite snapping his words out but sincerely wanting to.

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Harry groaned as he came to once again. His entire body felt limp and the beginnings of a severe headache were beginning to pulse behind his brow. When his mind had been broken into it had brought up some painful images he would rather not have remembered – images that were still burning into the back of his eyes. He swallowed around a very painful lump in his throat.

"Caladel?" A voice called, it sounded like it was coming from a far away place – through glass or water and the words that were said were hard to understand, but he flicked his eyes over to where he thought the sound had come from. It was Glorfindel.

"Are you alright?" Glorfindel asked, drawing closer to him. "Lady Galadriel was wrong to do that to you. She will apologise to you if you will let her – she is quite distressed by her actions."

Harry turned his face away and buried it in his pillow, a keen sense of betrayal stung within, though he knew it should not – he should not have become close enough to be affected.

He heard Glorfindel sigh heavily at his slight. Harry felt the bed dip as Glorfindel sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, "Lady Galadriel has a tendency to meddle where she should not meddle. She should have respected your privacy more, but she did not intend any harm upon you."

Glorfindel sighed again when Harry showed no sign of acknowledging his words. "You have the consolation that she has paid for her curiosity," Glorfindel tried again, and out of the corner of Harry's eye he saw Glorfindel lean back against the wall and had to grudgingly admit that his curiosity was roused by that statement, "You forced her out of your mind rather violently and she now has a rather nasty burn upon her left wrist." That tugged a wry smile out Harry and Glorfindel looked pleased. He continued speaking, "You also missed the entrance of Thranduil and his people, so you no longer need to concern yourself about that greeting!"

They sat unspeaking for some time. Slowly Harry felt his headache ebbing away. He felt dazed and strangely empty still; but somehow better now he knew that someone knew all his secrets, he would not have to hide from them anymore. Soon, he would know their reactions to what he was and what he could do.

Abruptly, Glorfindel stood up and brushed himself off. "If you will come, the council will begin momentarily." As if on cue, a single clear bell rang out.

Harry lingered briefly before he followed Glorfindel somewhat reluctantly.

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When Harry entered the porch where the Council was to be held, he flinched as if from a physical blow as many eyes landed upon him and a sudden silence descended.

He swallowed hard and tried valiantly to avoid looking at anyone. He sat quickly beside Glorfindel and Elrohir ignoring the quiet murmurs of the elves in favour of the melodic bubbling waters of the river-bed that was situated close to the balcony.

The elves looked like they had been talking for a long time before he had arrived and when Elrond stood, Harry felt his stomach lurch with nerves. Seeing that everyone else had risen, Harry quickly scrambled out of his seat, almost knocking the chair over in his haste. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Elrond for reassurance. He received a sombre smile, neither friendly, unfriendly, nor reassuring. He stood uncomfortably behind his high backed chair, waiting, hoping that nobody would notice that he was shaking like a leaf.

"Welcome my friends," Elrond began, his voice clear and confident. He looked at Harry and beckoned. Harry wanted to shake his head and walk away, but with a slight nudge from Elrohir he walked forward and stood beside Elrond, suddenly all too aware of the shocking height difference. "This is Caladel," Elrond paused abruptly as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't know quite what to say; instead he left the sentence rather blunt and unfinished. Elrond began introducing all the other elves around the table, who all seemed to already know one another. They nodded as their names were spoken but said nothing.

Harry tried to remember who everyone was but there were so many of them - all of whom had such unusual names it made them particularly difficult to remember and it became a nigh impossible task for him. He found himself forgetting them almost immediately.

At last, the introductions were finished and they were allowed to be seated once again, but Elrond remained standing.

"We have been discussing many things today, many dark and troubling and it is pleasant to turn our thoughts to some excellent news. Here is one who has been gifted to us by the Valar, perhaps the last of all elflings."

There was a murmur that rippled around all the chairs agaim. Harry sank back into seat as far as he could to avoid all the eager eyes.

"Why is it that we have not heard of this before now? Surely we should have been informed of this? Yet you say that none of the realms knew anything?" A very royal-looking elf asked. He wore a long silken green robe, with rich silver jewellery twining up his arms in delicate patterns. His silver hair flowed down his back like satin and upon it sat a simple silver circlet with a leaf in the centre.

There was a moment of complete silence, until Galadriel spoke gravely, "He was brought up in a far away place. His grandfather placed his sire there to protect him from… harsher times." Harry sat up straighter in his chair and became interested, this was something he did not know, had Galadriel known his grandfather?

The same man who had asked the previous question frowned slightly, "So why did he come to us now?"

Galadriel slowly turned her head to him, "The place where he lived became harsher than here. I am not of the liberty to give a fuller answer than that. Caladel will have to answer further if he wishes to."

There was another silence. This time it was expectant. Harry gulped audibly, but remained silent as he did not know quite what to say.

"Caladel," Elrohir said softly from his left, "Could you tell us a little about your upbringing? I understand this might be painful, but we would all appreciate it and we will not turn against you for anything you say."

Harry clenched his hands together to stop them from shaking and planted them firmly in his lap. Casting his eyes downwards at the patterned floor, he nodded and began speaking, stumbling as he didn't know what to say. He felt foolish and out-of-place as he began his speech.

"I'm Caladel as you already know. When I was a baby I lived with my mother and father. I can't remember them as they were killed when I was one. I was sent to my…" Harry hesitated, not sure what to call the Dursleys, "…other family, I suppose. They didn't really like me very much." Harry almost laughed - that had to be the understatement of the millennium - loathed the fact that he existed was a more accurate way of describing the Dursleys' feelings for him. "Erm… a while later I was rescued in a way..." Harry glanced up through his hair at the assembled elves to see that they were hanging on his every word. He wondered how much information he should give them. "I was sent away to a school, but I still had to go back to my family every summer.

"In my fourth year, the person that killed my parents came back and he has been trying to kill me ever since." There, Harry thought, that's enough information to satisfy them for now.

Under the elves gentle questioning, Harry found himself telling them what little he knew of his parents and talked a little of his time at the Dursleys – though what he did say was like pulling teeth - how he had been sent there for protection, cleverly avoiding the beatings he had received and also avoiding saying anything further about Voldemort and the war.

The elves all listened intently; their faces darkening when they caught a hint of a neglect or abuse, Harry realised that they were all experts at picking up on slightest of hesitations, or changes in his tone. It scared him slightly how well they interpreted what he was not saying rather than what he was.

"How old are you Caladel?" Celeborn asked gently.

Harry hesitated – these elves liked him because he was a child, would they stop caring for him when they found out he was seventeen and legally an adult in wizarding terms? He took a deep breath and braced himself. "I was seventeen this summer." He answered slowly.

He heard sharp intakes of breath from all around him and dropped his head, squaring his shoulders slightly.

"So young!" He heard an elf whisper, though he was not sure who. It took a moment for him to comprehend the words and once he had done, his head snapped up in surprise. That was not what he had expected to hear!

Elrond must have noticed his look of incomprehension and spoke quietly, in a voice made for his ears only. "I thought you were at least twenty one - certainly no younger."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together for a moment, how could they think he was twenty one? He was half their size for starters, his still looked very young, he knew nothing of what they knew and still they thought of him as an adult? Maybe he was a dwarf?

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Glorfindel sat silently in his chair, his mind was still reeling from the information the elfling had given them. Seventeen! And he had gone through all of those things?! It befuddled the mind.

He seemed so much older than that: in the way that he spoke; the way he held himself; the way he acted and the way that he was. Only Galadriel seemed unsurprised, which in itself was unsurprising.

"We must decide what is best for Caladel's future," she said quietly, "Whether he was twenty or not, he remains an elfling and therefore under the care of all the elves, let his age not detract us from the purpose of this council. He needs someone who will look after him, come what may; love him unconditionally; protect him and provide for him; teach him, guide him and never harm him. But most of all to teach him what it is like to be in a family," Galadriel's intense eyes tracked around the assembled elves and the question, 'can any of you do this?' remained unspoken.

Glorfindel looked around the circle of elves himself and noted that all the elves had an affirmative answer to that question written on their faces. He wondered if they wanted to look after Harry for selfish reasons, if they did, he couldn't blame them – it was lovely to have an elfling in Rivendell again after all these years. He felt Elladan stir beside him and dreaded what he was going to say.

"I will take him," Elladan said confidently, "I request permission that Elrohir and I be allowed to adopt him." A wave of whispers rippled around the circle again.

Elrond shook his head, "No my son, this is not the time for the two of you to become fathers."

Elladan looked straight at his father and replied, "I know that it is different, but I believe that Elrohir and I found Caladel for a reason,"

"Nay. I agree with Lord Elrond," Galadriel said firmly but gently, "It is not the time for you to become a father; you are still children to us and you are still healing from your recent loss. Now is not the time."

Elladan flicked his eyes over to Galadriel defiantly, but when he looked into her eyes, he visibly deflated and sat back into his chair without another word of protest.

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Harry was beginning to feel like he was something that was being sold at a market where only the highest bidder would win, yet nobody could decide what the thing of most worth was.

The elves were busy discussing who the best person to adopt him was; he may as well have not been there. Even elves that he had never met before offered to adopt him. Only Glorfindel remained silent at his side, watching the proceedings through slightly bemused eyes catching Harry's eyes a few times, smiling and shaking his head ruefully. It seemed he could not believe the madness that had possessed the elves either.

"And what makes you think that you would be better for him than us? Is it because he was brought here first?"

"This is madness," Glorfindel said finally, "You are squabbling like children! Stop this selfishness immediately for you are not being fair to Caladel. Now, I believe that we have decided that Lord Elrond, King Thranduil or Haldir should adopt him. Yes? Torn between three realms," Glorfindel did not give them chance to respond before continuing, "I disagree. Not for any disrespect for either of you, but because your duties demand great amounts of you. Also, you both have young children already who need you."

"Can you take on such a responsibility Lord Glorfindel?" Lord Celeborn asked, sensing Glorfindel's mind, "You have many draining duties as it is, perhaps that makes you unsuitable too. You also have no family, so Caladel would never know the joy of being part of a large family. You also have never raised an elfling before and Caladel is more unique than most." Their argument had an air of repetitiveness as the same points had been raised earlier.

"Indeed, I understand that, yet he would still be part of Rivendell's community which offers him family. Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan and Erestor would all play a vital part in his upbringing so it would not solely be me. My heart tells me this is the right path to take and I must trust my heart."

"Remember that trust is a double-edged blade; it can invite foolishness," Lady Galadriel professed. "There are many paths that could be tread, none is right or wrong, merely different. They all have the potential to lead to a different outcome."

Elrond turned to Harry, "Caladel, what would you like?"

Harry was taken aback from being asked for his opinion and stuttered undecidedly for a moment.

He didn't really want to be adopted, it seemed traitorous to his real parents and he hardly knew these people. Of course they had shown him kindness, healed him and not harmed him - excepting Galadriel - but was that enough to become their son? He would prefer the chance to get to know them better. He still had no clues as to how they would react when they discovered the _real_ him. By allowing himself to be adopted, it was giving them the opportunity to discover him, and he was devoting himself to a relationship he couldn't get out of.

Perhaps that was what he wanted though. A relationship that he was in for lifetime. It would offer a form of stability. He didn't want to be an orphan anymore either. This was his chance to stop being one, in a whole new world where everything was different.

He surprised himself by saying without hesitation, "I would like Glorfindel to adopt me."

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Authors notes: I apologise profusely for how long it took me to get this chapter out! My silly computer kept playing up and school kept piling on work so I found it very difficult to find the time.

Huge thanks to XinnLajgin, Gilraen Lunair, Wolven Spirits, Dannys Girrrl, Darkest Melody, Laura-Shi, the-bunnys-echo, Yana5, shinigami66, Wild KS Phoenix, Silvermane1, Azraeos, aliasangel3, Spirit White, A Rainy Day, Lucy, insanechildfanfic, Gertrud-Eveline, Skuert, klnolan, I-Y-T-Y, Fire of the lioness, Padme4000, Lady Prince, yamiyugi23, methoslover, Night Fury, Jade Aislin, frozenwands, DoubleTime, litlittledragon, Falling Right Side-Up, Jeremiah Lewis, Psycodemoness, Golden Princess, Viper, lilyflower01, Youko's Befuddled Fox, dellacouer, strfire, dead feather, Keg369, Curalium Lacrimo, gatogirl1, gemlou137, Rose-Aislin, Utena-Puchiko-nyu, Sharem, Mr. E. Nigma, starz4evr, Jess S1, the 1 hp fan, Neko-hanyou05, FrozenDream, Von, The Lady Reaper of the Shadows, Mou'Ikka and to all my anon reviewers! I love you all! I'm sorry I didn't reply to you all, but as I said, I had no computer for a long time!

I hope you like this chapter and that you're not too disappointed with my decision about the adoption. And please please please review!

TTFN


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